


Heal Thyself

by naughtylittlelines



Category: Black Jack (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Black Jack stop operating on yourself, Doctor as the patient, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It was a dark and stormy night..., Jealousy, Kei and Kiriko team up, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Mysterious illness, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pinoko is done with everyone, Protectiveness, doctor catfight, slight gore, unwillingly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2020-10-19 16:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20660129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughtylittlelines/pseuds/naughtylittlelines
Summary: There's a rumor running through the Underworld; the great unlicensed surgeon isn't taking patients, and may taken ill himself.  In the meantime, someone's been making calls, trying to find the answers for a strange illness that even the great doctor can't cure.  In fact, something about the disease makes surgery impossible... but rumors don't say how.Dr. Kiriko thinks he finally can lord over his rival and show him the joy of death.  Unfortunately, Kiriko's going to have to get through Dr. Kisaragi first. And, well, Black Jack, too.





	1. Rumor Mill

**Author's Note:**

> Can happen some time after 'Just Doctors', but wholly independent, like many of the chapters of Black Jack are (so, no need to read it if you don't want to).

The small house on the edge of cliff sat, a silent sentinel to the crash of the ocean below.

It was raining again; the constant patter on the roof doing little to soothe the nerves of those inside. Instead, each splash against the shingles, each crash of the waves on the rock below, seemed to call out ‘hurry!’ with their pounding.

The cacophony was as if nature itself was wailing for the infirmed within. Fitting, as he so cared for it.

Tiny hands struggled with a serving tray of tea and biscuits, trying their best to keep most of the liquid in the old china cups. Normally, in situations like these, Pinoko would grouse loudly that it was Black Jack’s fault, since he made her so small.

She didn’t, today.

Luckily, larger hands gently reached out, to ease the burden, placing the laden tray on the small folding table next to the bed. “Ah, thwank you, Dr. Kisawagi! Is he…?”

The young-faced doctor, normally all smiles for the tiny girl, shook his head, tousling his already mussed brown hair. Even in low light of the room, dark circles could be seen below his eyes, complementing the small, sad smile teasing his lips. “No, Pinoko, he’s still asleep. But his charts are still fairly normal, at least. Just the usual light fever. But if he wakes up, I’ll call you.” 

“Promwise?”

Both of them looked to the bed; if not for the medical equipment around them, the sleeping form of the unlicensed surgeon known as Black Jack would look as if he was simply resting peacefully after a long surgery. The black and white hair was tousled, framing the two-toned skin and thick lashes that the two observers adored, and mouth gently parted as his chest rose and fell. A sleeping beauty, in his own, exotic way.

“Promise.” 

Rumors were the bread and butter of those who worked outside the borders of normal society. Mafiosos, drug cartels, prostitutes, back alley surgeons, even death benefited from the free flowing of information, even if it helped to grease the wheels with a well-placed stack of money. Whispers lead to jobs, and jobs lead to getting paid, so most thought it was a decent down payment to hear the reliable snitches out, when they came knocking.

Right now, those who dealt with rumors had a juicy one: Doctor Black Jack wasn’t taking patients.

“Ridiculous. Probably the fee was just too small, or the sob story not good enough; the fool’s too much of a good doer to really turn down a patient.” A single eye read the newspaper in front of him, catching up on what he’d missed during his last overseas ‘patient.’ The White Doctor of Death had hoped that the snitch had something a bit better for him than that. He'd paid the man a pretty penny to keep him updated; not to bring him news he'd probably hear from another client, soon enough. Those who couldn't afford Black Jack's services would often be happy to come for his services, soon enough.

“I dunno, 60 million yen for a liver transplant isn’t something to sneeze at; particularly when it’s Don Atlas money.” Hammond the snitch smirked when _ that _ got his client’s attention. “And the doc hasn’t shown his mug in weeks. His last client said he looked b-worse than usual.”

That didn’t seem to grab his mark as he had hoped. “So the ‘great’ Black Jack is sick. He’s human. People seem to forget that. If it’s truly bad, he’d have checked himself into a friendly hospital, if he could find one.” Silver hair shook at what was probably an inside joke.

Hammond weighed his options; he’d hoped that his palm would have already been well greased before giving anything else away for free, but if he didn’t, he might not get anything at all from this deal. Deciding to take his chances, he dived further. “True, Black Jack didn’t… but sources said someone else has been calling around, asking about rare diseases, syndromes, or disorders with specific symptoms… calls coming from the Doc’s house.”

Hammond’s gamble paid off. The newspaper was quickly folded and forgotten, while a small but hefty stack of yen slapped into his hand. Doctor Kiriko was on the hook. “Was it the pipsqueak?”

“Nah, my sources put the voice older… possibly a soft spoken man, though they couldn’t be a hundred percent sure.”

The deadly doctor frowned at that. He made sure to keep tabs on most of his rivals, and Black Jack’s companions were few and far between. There were a few that might fit that description, but none who he’d think would be willing to keep such secrecy. “Do we know the symptoms?”

The snitched grinned, and a bit more yen ‘fell’ into his hand. “Not everything, but a light fever, a coma-like sleep that onsets for days at a time… and something that makes surgery nearly impossible. How, they won’t say.”

Surgery, impossible? Kiriko's eyebrows raised at that little tidbit. That would be a blow to the unlicensed surgeon. The way he worked, you’d think all the answers were at the end of a scalpel. “He must be suffering so, if he can’t even operate. Perhaps I should stop by and call on my old ‘friend.’”

Hammond gulped his coffee, hiding his nerves. No doubt what Kiriko had planned. The snitch didn’t have any skin in this game, though he’d sold a fair share of secrets to the back alley doctor over the years. There were always more people willing to pay for a lead.

Kei raked a hand through his hair, trying to keep the frustration from distracting him as he poured through all the test results. They’d cost an arm and a leg to rent out the equipment from Kaisei Hospital, but Dr. Tezuka had been extremely helpful in keeping the secrecy. 

Money was one thing, but it had also cost them the few hours of consciousness Black Jack had; if the pattern held, he wouldn’t awake until at least tonight after 72 hours of unwakeable sleep. There was clear REM patterns, bowel control and beta brain waves, ruling out an outright coma, but nothing could wake him. Even Pinoko’s attempts, before Kei could stop her, hadn’t been able to rouse her guardian. 

“What am I missing?” Again, he stared at the red cell sample under the microscope, only to swear under his breath. “Damn, let it sit too long.” The blood had caked on the slide, dried to uselessness in his carelessness. Grumbling, he eased the pipette of distilled water to place a single drop on the glass surface, to see if he could continue his study without having to start all over again. 

CRASH! Something smashed into the front of the house. Glass tinkled at Kei's feet. 

The pipette lay on the floor in multiple pieces, disregarded. Vaguely, his mind was aware Pinoko was screaming from the kitchen as he scrambled through the door of the clinic into the living room, towards the noise. 

In Kisaragi’s panic, he didn’t notice his patient’s brows furrow, as if he could hear the noise.

The front door had slammed open with the wind, leaving the intruder silhouetted in the doorframe. Gaunt features were barely made out in the darkness, and silver hair whipped around with the wind made for a terrific sight, as if the very skeleton of death had come to the door. Kei squinted. Was he hallucinating? Only when the figure stepped into the light of indoors, revealing the sneering face of an eyepatched man at least a decade his senior did Kei realized the visitor was more likely human, though no less deadly.

“Who the hell are you?” The voice asking was harsh and grating. Japanese, but tinged with a slight accent.

Kei blinked at the question, taking a moment to connect that the stranger was asking him who he was. “I’m sorry? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?! The clinic’s closed-”

The man stepped further into the house, ignoring the younger doctor and taking stock of the state of the house. “So it’s true. The genius back alley surgeon has gotten himself at death’s door.” Catching sight of the child, sure she’d tell him what was going on, moved towards her.

“Excuse me,” Dr. Kisaragi stepped between the intruder and Pinoko, blocking him from further menacing the obviously frightened little girl. “But who gives you the right to just keep barging in here? As I said, the clinic is closed! Who are you?!”

A pale eye narrowed at the obstacle in front of him, his features pulling further into a scowl, making the gaunt face even more pronounced. “Hmph. You must be new around here. Usually those who know Black Jack well enough are at least familiar with-”

“Dr. Kiriko!” The older man staggered into Kei as an IV pole slammed into his head from behind. Black Jack, still in his patient’s gown, heaved the pole over his head to hit the deadly doctor again, stopped only when Kei dropped the intruder to floor and and ran to his patient. 

“Black Jack, it’s ok! You got him!” Smaller hands guided the grip on the pole down. “C’mon, I’m not having you pass out on me after just waking up.” Dr. Kisaragi guided the larger patchwork man to the overstuffed armchair, checking as they went to make sure the IV line was still secure, and there were no other possible injuries. Pinoko trailed after, a bowl of tea over rice in her hands, ready to nurse her guardian back to health.

Dr. Kiriko groaned and sat up from the cold wooden floor, rubbing the swelling lump on the back of his head. “Given the rumors, I was not expecting you to be walking about, let alone still be swinging, Black Jack.”

The patient in question tensed, ignoring Pinoko’s attempt to feed him. “What, you were expecting me a death’s door, begging for your brand of ‘help’?” Black Jack relaxed slightly as he felt Kei pat his arm reassuringly.

The notorious ‘Doctor of Death’ didn’t answer the question, but the guilty look on his face said it all. “I admit, I was curious what had laid you low.” 

“I nearly forgot! The test results!” Dr. Kisaragi skittered up and through the clinic door, grabbing all the print outs, charts and MRI scans from their place on the messy desk.

“Who’s the new assistant?” Kiriko noted the protective way the unlicensed surgeon watched after the slight young man as he’d rushed out. The elder man tried to recall if he’d heard any rumors of a protege, or a particular case that might have left the doctor with another hanger on. 

“None of your damned business.” Hm. Touched a nerve. Unusual.

“SWUT UP AND EAT!” Pinoko was clearly done with being ignored.

“She’s got a point, Black Jack. Even intravenous fluids can’t replace three days of not eating.” Kisaragi dropped the pile on the table next to his patient. “And as the only licensed doctor currently in this house, no one is arguing.”

“Alright, alright.” The low chuckle was a warm thing, so unlike the cool, biting Black Jack Dr. Kiriko was used to. The scene was so… domestic, making him nauseous, and instantly had this new ‘doctor’ make his potential euthanasia lab rat list. 

Furthermore, Black Jack didn’t_ look _sick, even to the eagle eye of the Doctor of Death, who’d seen every type of death one could encounter. So much for gloating over his rival laid low. Instead, curiosity was biting at the heels of his motorcycle boots, wondering what stayed the doctor’s hand. Was it a new form of cancer? Or perhaps a variation of trypanosomiasis…. The painful lump on his head nearly forgotten, he made his way to stand.

“You’re still here?” The slight young man adjusted his glasses, frowning at the taller man. “In case you haven’t noticed, no one here needs your ghoulish ‘services.’” Dark brown eyes stared him down, stepping to shield his patient from Kiriko’s view while lowering his voice. “Yes, I do know your trade, and if you think I am going to let you near Black Jack….”

“Hmph. I’m still a doctor, kiddo, and have seen a lot more than you have.”

“Really? From my understanding, you couldn’t keep your patients alive, so you just made that your living instead.” Now the kid was on the top of his euthanasia for free list. 

“Kisaragi, don’t go poking the ghoul too much.” Black Jack hadn’t looked up from the charts, but he was still listening. “And as loathe as I am to admit it, we do need a fresh eye to look this over. Maybe he’ll finally put himself to use-” 

Pinoko shoved one last soggy spoonful into the poor man’s mouth, cutting him off. “Stop twalking! Mowe eating! Wish out me, you’d bwe swin and bones!” At once, she was running the empty bowl to the kitchen, filling it with curry this time, before returning to her spot at her guardian’s side. He grimaced, but indulged her when she poked his mouth with a laden spoonful (if nothing to keep it from spilling on the papers in his hands). 

“Hm, I can’t tell if you’ve gotten better, or whatever this is dulling my tastebuds-” Pinoko growled and shoved the next spoonful in with a little more force than necessary. 

“_ I _ made the curry, so I can’t speak to any new symptoms.” This ‘Kisaragi’ rolled his eyes and handed Kiriko a small stack of write-ups. “There’s the original write-up of my, Black Jack’s and Dr. Tezuka’s observations of symptoms. “5 to 8 hours of activity followed by approximately 72 hours of a coma-like state. Low grade fever that occurs during the 72 hour lethargic episodes, and absolute minimal reaction to stimulus, but gastric control, REM periods, and dream-like brainwaves. In addition-”

“You’ve checked for trypanosomiasis, I assume?”

“I’m not an idiot. First thing I checked for, after more common sources, even though he hadn’t traveled near the African continent in the last six months. Both myself and Tezuka drew samples and looked for parasitic evidence on the lymph nodes, before having to abort the biopsy.”

Ah, yes. The inoperable aspect of all this. “Surely you didn’t manage to screw up a simple lymphatic biopsy-”

“Hardly. That’s the last symptom I was getting to before you interrupted. It’s… hard to explain.”

The patient nodded from the armchair. “It’s easier to show it.” He raised a scalpel and a scarred forearm. 

Kisaragi had grabbed the instrument before Black Jack could start the so-called practical demonstration. “No! Every time you do that, you fall asleep faster! You need to conserve your energy and stay awake.” The slight young man beckoned Dr. Kiriko into the clinic, to the computer there. “We recorded our last attempted biopsy.”

“-As you can see here, there is absolutely no swelling of the lymphatic tissue common with most variations of sleeping sickness.” The camera was focused on the surgical opening, but there was enough of the skin around the opening to identify the patient. “The liver and spleen are completely untouched.” There was a strange shiver through the patient’s body around the incision. “Damnit! It’s happening again! Get the lamnia spreaders out of there!”

Dr. Kiriko watched in horrific fascination as the doctors pulled back all the equipment. Around the spreaders and clamps, the shivering flesh was moving, closing itself back together like a non-newtonian fluid. One clamp was almost swallowed before it was pried from the body, the skin stitching itself back together almost instantaneously in its wake. 

Kisaragi’s shaking voice came over the speaker. “It’s happening faster this time. Look; there’s absolutely no scarring at the incision site. You can’t even tell it was open a moment ago.” Fingers indicated on screen where the cut had once been on the patch of unblemished skin.

Dr. Kiriko alternated between the final image and the younger doctor. “Impossible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic actually came around before 'Just Doctors', but because this will probably eventually have implied (at least) Black Jack/Kei, I kinda wanted to figure out how they'd reconnect properly before I tried to write this. 
> 
> I always did like the catfighting that went on between Black Jack and Kiriko, and I had to add another cat (Kei) into the mix. 
> 
> While I have this sketch of the fic figured out, comments and kudos do go along to motivating me to keep writing this, as well as help me know what to work on. Help me out, please?


	2. Impossibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not possible, but there it was- the doctor's body was developing an unparalleled amount cell regeneration never seen before in nature. The how and why is up to the three doctors to discover before someone else finds out... if Kisaragi can keep it together, and Kiriko doesn't let his jealousy get the better of him.

Dr. Kiriko alternated between the final image and the younger doctor. “Impossible.”

“Trust me, I thought so, too, and I was there.” He paused the playback, slumping against the desk. “Any incision made closes in 3-5 minutes, with no scarring or indication of previous incision. However, if done while Black Jack is conscious, it closes even faster, though it will induce the lethargic reaction sooner than the usual 8 hours. If you let him, he can stick a scalpel in his forearm and draw it out without a scratch on him. It’s creepy as much as it is fascinating.”

The older doctor’s mind raced. “Just think of the possible applications… What is the extent of the regenerative process?”

Dr. Kisaragi turned back to the door. “That line of inquiry is exactly why I’m trying to keep this a secret. In case you’ve forgotten, this isn’t some labrat, this is a person! This is Black Jack. We still don’t know what caused this, and he spends most of his days unconscious at this point, and I can’t go to many doctors, either due to his reputation or those who’d use him for those very unscrupulous reasons that are probably running through your head right now. This isn’t some sort of a miracle, it’s a curse, and I don’t even know why I’m telling you this!”

“A doctor’s need for answers.” Kiriko rewound the video slightly, watching the body with a more clinical eye. “It’s definitely not a… natural looking process.”

“No. The closest regrowth structure would be certain sponge types, and flatworms. Nothing within complex organisms is anywhere close.” The younger doctor shrugged his shoulders. “I pulled every researcher I had contact with, and they said such cell regrowth should be impossible, both in the amount of time and the level of complex cell structuring. The only thing that *does* make sense is the sheer energy levels needed for what we’re seeing.” His shoulders slumped, his voice wavering a bit. A hand pushed up the square frames to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Alright there?” Only a fool wouldn’t have noticed the dark circles under those glasses; the kid had obviously been working himself overtime on this. 

“I’m fine.” Lazing his fingers through the stacks of paper around them, he opened a folder full of printed photos, documenting random parts of the patchwork surgeon’s body. “In the last three weeks, nothing so large as a scrape or nick has lasted for more than a few minutes. 17 explorations, each shorter than the last. Even older scars are showing some signs of fading.” He pointed to a barely visible mark on the shot of a shoulder. “A year old gunshot wound now looks as if it happened closer to a decade ago.”

“He always did have a taste for danger… Some would kill to be able to turn the clock back like this.” Indeed, scars Kiriko remembered from their various encounters looked smaller, fainter than they should.

“Not Black Jack; those scars are a source of pride for him.” There was a slight blush on the young man’s cheeks as he turned his head away. “But you’re right, someone might kill to know what this is, and that’s what worries me. If I remember correctly, you were military once, correct? Could this be a leaked research project, or someone using him as a guinea pig?”

“Hmm.” Kiriko wasn’t one to hide his history as much as Black Jack was, but it did make a small impression that this Kisaragi knew that much about him. Had the other unlicensed doctor talked about him? “I wouldn’t put it past some sections of Research and Development, though using a civilian guinea pig would be highly unusual. I’d have to check some of my sources.”

“If you could… look, there’s not a lot of people to trust in this mess. I don’t like what you do, and I’m not going to forgive you for even thinking about practicing your trade here, but I want to believe that’s not the real reason you came out here. I…  _ we _ need help, here, and-” 

“Kisawagi! He twook out the IV again!” 

Kei stifled a groan as he pushed off the desk. He knew from experience that doctors always made the worst patients; being a ship’s doctor for various research voyages had taught him that; however, dealing with Black Jack as a patient was a whole new level of push-back. At least Pinoko made a good snitch whenever the brilliant (pigheaded, non-compliant) surgeon decided to go against medical advice.

Speaking of his patient, the man was purposely avoiding his caretaker’s gaze when they came to investigate. “Relax, the needle had corroded again; it would need replacing sooner rather than later. Anyways, I’ll be awake for a while yet, so it’s not really... necessary...” The rest of the excuse died in his throat when he noticed the sad, disappointed mask of the other man. 

Sighing, Kei turned to the kitchen. “At this point, since you’re just going to ignore anything I recommend, you can shove the pole up your ass for all I care.” He tipped the now empty pot on the stove and hummed. “At least you’re eating.” 

The sink sounded like a raging waterfall in the silence that covered the conversation after that, and the overall feeling of the room was icier than any patient of Dr. Kiriko’s. Pinoko brought over the bowls, spoons and chopsticks, trying her best to help. At least someone was.

The elder man watched the whole show from the clinic’s doorway, waiting for the genius surgeon make one of the witty retort he’d become so used to in their interactions. Black Jack was never one to let someone else have the last word, but… the words never came. Instead, a look of regret lingered as he watched the dishwasher’s back, before dropping back to the notes in front of him.  _ Strange, it seemed this young man was capable of shaming a doctor who’d demanded 30 million yen from little old ladies and babes _ . Kiriko made a mental note to do a little info digging. There were strange things going on in this house on the cliff, and it wasn’t just the mysterious disease.

Picking up a report off the table and flipping through the pages, a single eye noted that indeed, the arm had no trace of the IV line. “You mentioned corrosion?”

The russet eyes didn’t look up from the paper in front of them. “Mm. Seems to be a side effect of the constant cell regeneration. The friction eats away at anything blocking reconnection, so needles become compromised.” A scowl was forming under that two toned skin line.

“Well, were there any clues in the results?” Nothing jumped off the page. Relatively normal heart rate, white blood cell count was nothing unusual, and the man’s typically fast reflexes. A slight rise in blood pressure, and an uptick in testosterone, but without any of the other symptoms that those indicators accompanied, it was difficult to tie them to a cause or relate them to what they were seeing.

“Clues, yes, but answers? None, at the moment. Little irregularities, but none of them point to a cause, or even tie together. Nothing makes sense!” A fist slammed into the armrest, nearly spilling the files around him.

_ He always has been quick to anger _ . “Where have you gone in the last six weeks, before this started?” Six weeks would be a typical incubation period…

“Hrm, well, symptoms began about a month ago.” Kisaragi had mentioned three weeks; so he probably wasn’t here during the first onset. “Before then, two clients in Tokyo, flew out to Okinawa-”

“Iriomote Island, I assume?” Kiriko knew that story.

“Mm-hmm, Osaka before that, and Hiroshima for a routine surgery, Taipei to track down a delinquent client, and Sendai for a consultation at Osamu Hospital before that...”

That rang a bell. “Osamu Hospital? You mean the one that had that gas explosion two months ago?” There’d been a client who’d called for his mercy after being caught in that.

“Ah… yeah. I was there when it happened. Doctor Tenma had wanted me to perform an exploratory surgery on a client there, to confirm his theory of his about neural pathway rerouting. But the explosion wiped out his lab and the patient, destroying most of his work.”

“Danger does seem to follow you like a stray dog, nipping at your heels.” There was something about that story that had Kiriko thinking. “Doesn’t that hospital have a contract with the U.S. Army?”

Black Jack frowned, papers now forgotten. “At one point, yes. They helped fund the construction, I believe as a form of apology after charges that shore leave sailors had been breaking the law there, but I wasn’t aware it continued to have an interest there.”

“Well-”

_ CRASH! _

One of the plates in Kisaragi hands had slipped, smashing into a thousand pieces across the kitchen floor. Embarrassed, the young man leaned down to start picking up the pieces, but teetered in his overreach, and followed the plate onto the tile.

“Kei?!” Black Jack was out of his chair like a shot, pulling the slighter man off the floor, checking his pulse, cursing under his breath when he noticed the small pieces of porcelain sticking in the palm.

“S-sorry, I just slipped-” He tried not to wince as a piece of porcelain was removed. It was hard to concentrate, and he blinked rapidly.

“Damnit, you better not have gotten this from me…” The surgeon reached for tools that weren’t there, only realizing after a moment he was still in a patient’s gown. Pinoko rushed to assist, holding out a set of tweezers.

Dr. Kiriko stepped over the pieces delicately, putting a hand on the frantic man’s shoulder. “Relax. Look at him, he’s clearly just exhausted.” The elder man turned to the child of the house. “When was the last time he slept?”

Pinoko was nothing if not a good tattletale. “Uhm, I thwink shometime yeshterday he shwept for a widdle bit… he wash working on some shamples and didn’t want to wait.”

Inwardly, Black Jack cursed, again, for not noticing the dark circles under Kei’s eyes, or the subtle shake of his fingers when handing over the documents. “Idiot,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. 

With a quick motion, the larger man picked up the non-unconscious caretaker in his arms with ease. “Pinoko, would you grab a few bandages and antibiotic gel?” Not waiting for an answer, he cradled the figure and carried him delicately into the single bedroom of the house.

Dr. Kiriko didn’t follow, but had watched a strange little ripple flow up the other man’s back through the gap of the gown he wore. He then turned his attention back to the little girl when she returned from her errand and grabbed the broom and dustpan. He kindly took the far too large broom from her. “Mind telling me what’s going on between those two?”

One could practically see Pinoko fight between her tattletale nature and whatever promise she’d given her guardian and the other doctor. “Thwat’s pwivate! A good lady nevwer gosships!”

“Oh, so there is something to gossip about them?”

The young girl’s face turned as red as her hair, but she didn’t confirm how on the nose Kiriko had been. Not that she needed to; he still had one good eye to observe how delicately her guardian had treated the young man.

“And here I thought you were the ‘wife’? Tsk, tsk, letting your ‘husband’ cuddle someone else like that, even if they’re a man...”

“SHADDUP! PINOKO IS SHTILL DA WIFE!” She huffed and shoved the now empty dust bin at him threateningly. “Yowr’e jusht trwiying to make me mad. HMPH!”

A black gloved hand hid a small smile behind it, which just made the child stomp off to the far side of the kitchen.  _ Touched a nerve there _ . Still, he tried to think back to any suggestion to where the patchwork surgeon’s predilections lay. There’d been that one rumor about a female surgeon and that movie star, but more often than not, it’d been his refusals that made the rumor mills, rather than any conquests. Nor had their been any rumors of same sex dalliances… he’d certainly never hit on _him_. Actually, there’d been one joke that the stitched up man had his junk blown off, but Dr. Kiriko was pretty sure than had been mere slander. 

Pinoko continued to grouse. “Pinoko ish a pwoper lady! Pinoko can share, if she wants to!”

“That’s news to me.” Black Jack stepped back into the main room, now dressed in his typical white shirt, floppy bow tie and black slacks. One would think the man had nothing else in his closet. He kept his young ward from peeking behind him. “Kei’s asleep, so let’s leave them alone for a bit.” 

Looking back up, he was surprised to see the silver haired doctor shrugging back on his black leather peacoat. “Leaving so soon?”

“Hm, well, I stayed longer than I was expecting to.” A lie, but a minor one. “That story you spoke about in Sendai might actually be a lead in this mess, and you’re in no condition to follow up.”

Those reddish brown eyes narrowed. “Why are you so interested in helping?”

“Consider it returning the favor… and I admit, I’m curious. Don’t want to be suddenly put out of business if this spreads, and well you know what curiosity did to the cat.” The laugh that followed was a bit too nasty to sit well with Black Jack. “Give my regards to the rookie when he wakes up.”

The wind and rain had lessened considerably since he’d arrived, but twilight was quickly taking over for the darkening storm clouds. The single headlamp cut through to the road as the motorcycle roared to life.

To Sendai; but first, he had a few things he needed to investigate through the rumor mills. It wasn’t that late; Mr. Tamago wouldn’t mind, particularly if a bit of cash was knocking at his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiriko is a jealous biiiiiiitch.
> 
> I admit, writing Kiriko is way too much fun. He's a complex character, and the first to tell you his motivations if given the chance, yet we still don't know all that much of him (officially). He likes needling Black Jack, and given his interactions, it wouldn't be that big of leap that there might be a one-sided interest there. (Or a mutual love-hate relationship, if you ship it).
> 
> Also, you got to feel for poor Kei; Black Jack as a patient would be hell. In the manga alone there are plenty of examples of Black Jack making people jump even when laid up in a hospital bed. 
> 
> Anyway, the mystery deepens, Black Jack's body is doing strange things, and the body horror continues. I know, I know... is this a Black Jack fic or a Junji Ito story? I'M NOT TELLING.


	3. Curiosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone wants answers, but to what, well, that depends on the man.

Sure enough, Hammond was more than happy to see the doctor’s cash again so soon. “Heya, doc. Looks like you’ve got a bit of a bee in your bonnet.”

“Mm. I’ve a bit of information for you, if you’d be interested in a trade.”

“Depends…”

“Relax. I also want you to do some digging, so you’ll still make out in this deal.” A thick stack of several thousand yen slid under a napkin.

The mustache wiggled in joy. “Whatever you want, good doctor.”

“First, Black Jack is still among the land of the living. Not a scratch on him, and he’ll probably stay that way for a while. But he is dealing with something dangerous, so don’t expect him to be doing marathon surgeries anytime soon.” Not really a lie. Probably more truthful than the patchwork doctor would want him admitting, but when was he going to find out?

“Really? Then maybe we should drink to his health!” The shorter man raised his hand for a beer. Dr. Kiriko didn’t mind; in fact, after the afternoon he had, he could use the alcohol.

“Indeed. Now, what I want you to do for me. One, I’d like to know what current research Osamu Hospital is working, particularly anything to do with Dr. Tenma or the US military.”

“Sure, sure. Not many people know the Americans are still funding the R&D over there. Tenma’s one of the best research docs they’ve got, so most of the money goes into his projects. Last I heard, he was working with something to do with altering the human genome or somesuch. I can dig up more, though, if you give me a few days. Anything else?”

More money passed under the table. “Find me everything you can about one Doctor Kisaragi Kei.”

“Hm. Name doesn’t ring any bells.” Hammond grinned, curious. “Why the interest? Got a new client lined up?”

Two beers were placed on the table, the bartender nodding to both men. Waiting for other prying ears to move out of range, Dr. Kiriko took a sip from the glass. He’d had better, but it was good enough not to complain. “Hmph. Probably not. He’s a young man hanging around Black Jack these days. I’d like to see if I have to worry about my nemesis taking on a protege.”

“Now  _ that _ would be a sweet little tidbit, if true. Heh, you never do disappoint, Kiriko.”

Both men drained their glasses, and laying enough money to cover tab, the doctor of death stepped out into the night. Mr. Tamago would no doubt find him the information he needed, as well as spread that little bit of gossip like fire. If that young upstart was going to weedle his way into Black Jack’s life, well, he’d have to learn how to play with the big boys, warts and all. 

Still, he’d like to know what paper trail the young man had. A man like Kiriko knew better than to have a cellphone or a computer; it was far too easy to hack and track by those who didn’t understand the important service he provided. Still, for a few hundred yen, the nearest cafe could provide him with the information, as well as a place to rest with little questions asked. Not necessarily his preferred domicile, but it would do for now.

Laying back in the plush chair of the private cafe room, Dr. Kiriko considered kicking the desk in front of him, for all the good it would do. He concentrated on his breathing, ignoring the sheer  _ annoyance _ running in his veins. Tamago would have more information for him, anyways.

Still, for a licensed doctor, Kisaragi had a minimal paper trail, and it maddened the eye-patched doctor’s curiosity to know  _ why _ . Sure enough, Kisaragi was listed as licensed by the JMA and the international doctors’ board; graduating with honors from Tokyo University. The brat was older than Kiriko had guessed; instead of a barely-out-of-med-school kid he’d assumed, the man graduated close to 7 years ago. The baby-faced doctor wasn’t associated with any hospital, though a ‘Doctor Kisaragi’ was on the manifest of over a dozen voyages as a ship’s doctor, including several highly regarded research vessels, high-profile outposts at the ends of the earth and world circumventing cargos. Not exactly tours for the faint of heart.

But other than that… nothing. Prior to his graduation, the man didn’t seem to exist. No high school alumni notices, no college transcripts. Absolutely no reason for the kid to somehow have the greatest surgeon in the world wrapped around his finger like it was nothing.

Grumbling, he logged off and leaned back in the chair, reclining to a horizontal position. No use losing sleep over this; he’d have a trek to Sendai in the next day or two, depending how soon Hammond would have his info. 

Though, he mused, Black Jack was sleeping enough for all of them.

The house was dark when Kei returned to consciousness.  _ Damnit, how long had he been out? _ Had Black Jack slipped back into his extended slumber already? Worse, had Kiriko done something to him? Covers flew haphazardly as the young doctor threw himself out of bed, barely remembering to grab his glasses as feet shoved themselves into his house slippers. 

Kisaragi made it a half a stride out of the bedroom door before he planted face first into the broad chest of his source of panic. Too tired, he didn’t move as those brilliant hands and arms embraced him. “Ha-? Kei, Kei, it’s alright. Dr. Kiriko’s gone.”

The smaller man let himself return the embrace, selfishly enjoying the warmth of the larger man around him. “You’re still awake…” He did his best not to purr when a hand stroked his head.

The chuckled response sent butterflies down Kei’s spine. “For a few more hours, if the pattern holds.” Gently, Black Jack pulled Kei back, resulting an adorable pout and a sad longing from the other man. “Kei, you need to take better care of yourself. We have a bit of time, yet.”

Kei scowled and pushed himself right back to squeeze the larger man tight; it was a miracle he didn’t throw them both off balance with the force of his desperation. The panic was painted on his features as he looked up to that two toned face. “We don’t know that! We don’t know anything! You could go back to sleep and I might lose you-!” The rest of the licensed doctor’s worries were swallowed by the warm lips on top of his. At once, the what-ifs melted into the shadows as they let themselves enjoy the feeling of each other.

“ _ A-HEM. _ ” 

“Sorry, Pinoko.” Both men jumped at the grouchy presence behind them. Finally remembering to do something with his glasses in hand, Kisaragi was greeted by the very annoyed face of the not-quite young child standing at the kitchen’s entrance. 

“Hmph!  _ Rood! _ ” The redhead grabbed both men’s hands and pulled them into the kitchen. “If you two awre done, you can help cook!”

It took all his willpower for Kei not to laugh at the desperate look Black Jack shot him. Somehow, out of the three of them, the ship doctor was the only one who knew how to make anything besides curry or burned rice. Blame the first ship he’d signed on to; the cook, who’d been grateful at the emergency appendectomy Kisaragi had performed, was horrified that such skilled hands had up until that point made only tea over rice. (‘ _ But I like tea over rice, _ ’ Black Jack had grumbled when he’d heard the story). In fact, it was those cooking skills that had endeared him to Pinoko in the first place, after she’d figured out what was going on between her guardian and him.

“Make suwe to make extwa porshions. Dowctor ish gonna eat us out of houshe and home!” The little girl stuck her tongue out at the offending doctor. He returned the gesture in kind. 

“Hmph. Not like I’m eating when I’m asleep… and it’s my money buying the groceries.”

The comment made Kei realize they probably should be monitoring his intake… he kicked himself. The surgeon had been right… if only he wasn’t running himself ragged, he would have remembered to keep to standard procedure.  _ Idiot. _

Black Jack seemed to read his facial expression, and motioned to the small notebook on the table. “I’ve been keeping a log since the first fall in the park. Something to keep myself busy, since I’m asleep for everything else.”

“Still… I should have remembered to keep a thorough running log. I mean, sh-” Kei caught himself with the glare of the little ‘viwginal maiden’, “er, shoot, I haven’t even taken your vitals yet this time. God, maybe I am a rookie.” Unable to look at his supposed ‘patient’, he instead glared at the gently frying katsu, hoping this could be one thing he didn’t fuck up.

“Don’t take Kiriko’s jabs to heart- after all, it’s his fault you were thrown off. Besides… this is the danger of getting too close to your work.” Gently, skilled hands traced soothing circles in the back in front of him.

“You manage it just fine…”

With his attention on the pan in front of him, Kei missed a look of regret pass over his partner’s face, nor noticed when the fingers stopped their journey across his tense shoulders. “Sometimes.”

Moving the golden brown cutlets onto the waiting paper towel, Kei sliced them into bite sized pieces. From there he carefully arranged them onto the waiting plates of seasoned rice and pickled daikon, delicately handling it with his still bandaged hand from earlier. Pinoko quickly splashed all the dishes all with heated tonkatsu sauce, almost drowning everything before her guardian stepped in to pluck the ladle out of her hands. The grumbling from the tiny girl only increased when the mixed greens were plated and put squarely in front of each setting. “Eyuk! Why do I hafta eash this too?”

“Because everyone can benefit from eating better. I need to make sure no one else gets sick in this house, and you’ve been sneaking a lot of sweets when you think I’m not looking. Without Black Jack to fix anyone up, well all need to be extra careful; I need the best nurse in tip top shape.” Kisaragi was careful not to use the usual line about green veggies helping you grow big, as he was well aware of Pinoko’s feelings on  _ that  _ matter. He looked up at the silence that had descended on the table, his cheeks burning when he realized the two other diners were glaring at him. “What?”

“You need to start heeding your own advice.” Black Jack said around a bit of katsu. He took a sip of tea, grimacing slightly; the pork was fine, but Pinoko always left tea to steep too long. “Going that long without sleeping is going to make you sick, and we both need you in one piece.” 

Pinoko nodded with serious frown, agreeing with the doctor’s words. It was awful when she was left by herself. Sure, she really was an adult, and of course she could obviously look after herself. But… Kisaragi had been so helpful these past few weeks, and more than a little selfishly, she liked the warmth the other man brought to the house on the cliff. She suspected her mentor thought the same, but good luck getting him to admit something like  _ that _ in public.

Weakly, Kei tried to defend himself. “I was… the sample…” The glares intensified. “Alright, alright… Lesson learned. I’ll try... better.” The concern was too much, so he hid his burning cheeks as he looked down at his plate, picking at the small pieces of rice and pork at the edges. His nerves weren’t doing much for his appetite, but he’d just cause more worry if he didn’t try to eat at least a little.

Even still, most of his portion of dinner ended up wrapped and placed in the fridge for later. His stomach had its fill of anxiety and foolishness; his body needed sleep, not food. It was taking all his effort to stay awake, but he still pushed the little girl to adhere to her bedtime, her biggest puppy eyes no match for Kei’s quiet discipline. A story mollified her loudest grumbles, and it was moments later that he collapsed next to Black Jack in the living room, stifling a yawn.

“You really should be heading to bed yourself.”

Even with all his willpower, Kei couldn’t help but to bite his lip and hum in the back of his throat as those skilled fingers ran through his short brown hair, letting himself melt into a broad shoulder next to him. It was so tempting to just stay like this, letting sleep come for both of them in a quiet respite. “I know… but let me be a little selfish. We might only have two hours more, at most. I know it doesn’t seem like long for you, but you’re asleep while the rest of us have to wait.”

“Alright.” Lips touched the spot just above his glasses reverently.

The movement brought the skilled surgeon’s hands into his own view. He slumped against the couch as he examined the thin, barely there scars. Even these twenty year old sutures, that had become like old friends, were now hard to discern if someone didn’t know where to look. If this kept up, they’d be erased, one less memory of all he’d fought for. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it.”

The other man nodded, letting his own delicate fingers trace the pale lines he could still see. “Now do you see why I’m worried? I know these scars mean a lot to you, and those are just the exterior changes. Where does it stop?” Kei thought back to that failed biopsy, trying to remember what had bothered him about what he’d seen. A realization shot him straight up off the couch, fatigue gone. “Black Jack… when you survived the explosion, all those years ago, were you missing any major organs? Ones that you didn’t need to have replaced or could do without, like say, a spleen?”

The two-toned face frowned. “Part of my intestines… part of my liver, my appendix… and yes... my spleen. As well as some nerve damage, but you knew that.” Indeed, the smaller doctor was one of the few that were aware that Black Jack’s speed was in part due to his constant attempts to push through the debilitating pain he’d often feel from the nerve damage in his limbs. Apparently, the blind acupuncturist Biwamaru had, to both doctors’ disbelief, helped with some of the worst gastronomical issues. There’d also been twice when doctors had kept his fingers moving by breaking down mental blocks, but there was only so much psychiatry, needles or scalpels could do.

Judging by how white Kei had gone, Black Jack knew better than to argue as those thin, delicate fingers grabbed his and pulled him toward the lab in the clinic. The video they’d taken from the biopsy was still on screen. Rewinding slightly, Kisaragi paused playback and pointed to a part of the exposed cavity. “If you don’t have a spleen… what is this?”

Sure enough, the unmistakable shape of the organ was clearly visible behind the upper twist of scarred intestine.

Unconsciously, Black Jack felt his abdomen, trying to feel where there was a part of him that by all rights shouldn’t be there. “Impossible. Regrowing an entire organ…?”

“At this point, we can’t rule out anything.” Determinedly, Dr. Kisaragi stood up and pushed the larger man to the examination room. “We keep putting this off. C’mon, then; strip and step on the scale.” He pulled out the blood pressure cuff, a stethoscope and the chart he’d been monitoring his patient’s vitals with.

The brilliant surgeon had learned his lesson from earlier; without argument he stripped down to his briefs and stepped on the scale. It beeped, and without so much as a glance at the nearly naked man in front of him, Dr. Kisaragi noted the readout on the LCD screen. “I suspected as much. You’re nearly 7 kilos heavier than you were three weeks ago.” 

The patchwork patient crossed his arms defensively. “I did just eat.”

“Not  _ that _ much.”

“Three weeks ago, I was severely dehydrated, half-starved, and not accounting for how much a 72 hours asleep would do to my body-”

“Yes, but you weren’t  _ that _ desiccated when you toppled on me in the park. At best, you had lost two, maybe three kilos at most due to water loss. You’ve put on weight.”

Black Jack grumbled, turning away from the critical observation the other doctor was giving him. “Are you saying I’m getting fat?!”

Dr. Kisaragi pinched the skin of his patient’s side, resulting in a high-pitched ‘Yipe!’ that could have woken the dead. Trying not to laugh at the frankly childish reaction, Kei resisted the urge to go further and tickle him. “Hardly. While I doubt you have any body mass calipers around-”

The larger man snorted. “You know that’s junk science....”

Kisaragi cleared his throat. “...it’s clearly not fat you’ve gained. Think about it: a new spleen, probably an appendix, and who knows what else? You seem to be even more sensitive to touch in places that you’ve said nerves never really healed. Tell me, have you had any of those flare-ups, at all, while you’ve been awake these last few weeks?”

A hand opened, then closed into a tight fist, before relaxing again. “...No.” Shouldn’t he be glad to be out of pain? But the way Kei was probing, the worry was beginning to sink in his gut like a lead weight. What happened when there was nothing left to heal? 

“I think you’re starting to get why I’m so concerned. Where does this end? What if it continues to speed growth of a malignant cell, resulting in a cancer that spreads in minutes, rather than weeks?” Kei pressed against those broad shoulders, his forehead nestling between the shoulder blades. “I don’t want to lose you...” Stepping back, he tried to compose himself. “Take a seat, I still need your heart rate and blood pressure. Maybe a blood sample as well, just in case.” 

Black Jack watched silently as Kisaragi went through the motions of inflating the cuff, and listening closely the flow. “We’ll fight this. That’s what doctors do.”

Something in the determination of that statement helped Kei to tamper down his panic. “Mm. Well, except maybe that Kiriko fellow. What scared him off, anyways? Don’t tell me that without me around he got bored and went for someone else to euthanize...”

Wincing slightly as the needle pierced his median cubital vein, the larger man grunted. “Not exactly. Actually, he seems convinced he may have a bit of lead; something about Sendai Hospital’s research. So he might be back when I’m… well, you know.”

Kei rolled his eyes before tapping the collection bottle. “Lovely. You have permission to wake up and whack him with another IV pole. Although, maybe not. We only a few and you’ve already dented one.” Damn, the draw was being sluggish. Had he missed the vein proper? “Well, shit!”

“ _ Language. _ Just because you treat sailors doesn’t mean you have to sound like them…”

“Well, if you think that was bad, I’m about to get a whole lot more colorful: Your body just destroyed the goddamned bloody fucking needle. Look!” Kei held up the draw needle, displaying the fact that it was missing at least a centimeter of the sharp point. The edge that had remained seemed as if it had been pulled out of an acid bath. “I heard of needing more iron in your blood, but this is ridiculous. Do you think I should be looking for the missing tip?” Part of him felt like making a dirty joke about ‘hiding the tip in him’ but this was, frankly, a serious situation and it was mostly inappropriate, of sorts. 

“Something tells me it’d be a futile search.” Black Jack thought back to once when he’d tried that very search, when a patient’s IV needle had snapped in an earthquake. Given how the needle looked here, they didn’t need to worry about it miraculously appearing later as had happened in the case before.

“I’ll have to closely monitor the IV port this cycle, then. Don’t want you to dehydrate yourself by blocking the line.” Keeping the fluids going during the sleep portion of these episodes had cut the time unconscious by nearly 24 hours. It was a boon that they desperately needed. 

“Probably. Though earlier, the last needle was still fine, just losing some of the finish, and it’d had been in there for a while. Perhaps if it’s putting things in, rather than taking away, there isn’t as much of a reaction?”

“So… you’re saying that perhaps it can distinguish from, say, bleeding out versus a source of nutrients going in?” The young doctor shook his head. “Every time I think we’ve figured this out, it just gets more complicated. Next we’ll discover we can shoot you point blank with a bullet with nary a scratch.” Kisaragi finished labeling the vials and placed them in storage, then finished up the notes on all checks.

“Please don’t test that.”

Kei snorted, then let himself enjoy the view in front of him without a doctor’s detached eye. He bit his lip as he sought to memorize each movement of such a well built man; how any could be so blind as to call him ugly was beyond his understanding. “We have a little time left.”

The slighter man’s desires must have been painted plainly on his features, as the source of his admiration stood, leaning into his eager partner’s welcoming embrace.

They’d taken back 10 hours, this time. Kei took the victory, even as he mourned his sleeping patient’s untroubled face. Quietly, though he didn’t need to be, he checked that every monitor was on and properly placed and the IV dripping slowly, before slipping himself into his own much shorter, fitful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I was tempted to write the porny bits, but got nervous. Would people like the porny bits? I always am a terrible judge of these things.)


	4. Leads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiriko finds a lead, and a few answers, but not what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: this chapter contains trans-phobic comments said by a character while discussing Kei's history. These do not reflect the thoughts of the author, and are meant to be unsympathetic. Apologies in advance.

The stack of files in the folders were impressive, but expected for the money that had fed Hammond’s search. Kiriko flipped through the first, marked Sendai, not really quite ready to dive into them yet, but still making sure it had what he needed. Notes, hacked transcripts, ledgers, personnel files… this would be plenty, he suspected. Throwing it back on the table, his single eye latched onto the real interest of the moment; a more modest folder labeled with ‘Kisaragi Kei’ in the top right corner. He flipped it open, not sure what to find, but eager to do so.

The Death Doctor glared at his source. “Is this supposed to be a joke?”

Tamago grinned, knowing the source of his client’s confusion, but chuckled nervously all the same; one did not want such a dangerous client upset. “I know, I know, I was baffled as you are, when I started digging. But trust me, the payoff’s worth it.”

Annoyed, but curious all the same, he continued to read the file of ‘Kisaragi Megumi’, each page becoming more engrossing than the last as the pieces fell into place. “Illuminating… so that’s why I’d never heard of the brat before. ‘He’ was once-”

“That’s not the best part though. I don’t mean to presume, but I suspect you recognize the handwriting on those write-ups there.”

Kiriko nodded, though he was loathe to admit it. “Even if I didn’t, the sheer arrogance gives it away; Black Jack performed the hysterectomy, didn’t he.” Strange, then, that the handwriting would change abruptly on the last pages.

“Not only that! Here’s the real kicker: according to my sources, that’s the surgery that lead to our dear back-alley friend’s unlicensed ways.”

The revelation nearly left the man who thought he’d seen it all speechless. “You’re kidding.”

Hammond’s grin threatened to split his face in half. “It was ‘the straw that broke the camel’s back,’ and I quote. Lost it all to operate on his college sweetheart.”

The lone pale eye narrowed. “His what?”

Twirling his mustache like a buffoon, the snitch continued. “Yeah. Apparently they were sweet on each other. A few classmates said they had been seen walking home together often… one said he was sure they were playing ‘doctor’ in the unapproved way, if you catch my drift, but couldn’t confirm it. Can you imagine? Someone falling for a mug like that. Guess there really are people who dig scars… Er, no offense.”

It took effort not to roll his eye at that. “Doesn’t explain why this Kisaragi suddenly waltzed back into Black Jack’s life, eight years later.”

“Well, the little doctor was out of the picture for almost six years, first bouncing from a couple of places that figured out their secret, then after an off-the-books boob removal, working as a ship’s doctor for anyone who’d hire her...him. Didn’t return to the country for almost five years; by that point enough time lapsed for all the paperwork to settle and ‘Megumi’ became ‘Kei’ permanently. About that time, our two-toned friend got in touch. Then…” Thick eyebrows wiggled.

Kiriko frowned. “Surely they haven’t been clandestine for that long.”

“Ah ah ah. You’re getting ahead of me.” Hammond wagged a finger. “Nah, apparently nothing came of it until that typhoon late last year; y’know, the one that caused all those shipping delays and such. He/she and our good doctor both got waylaid in Malaysia and after a night of drinking, suddenly two hotel rooms got consolidated into one.” He pointed to the hotel receipt near the back. “Ever since, every month or so, the doc’s been making booty calls in various locations in Southeast Asia. Goes in, performs a miracle surgery, stays an extra few days when a certain ship is in port. Then, three weeks ago, a two day shore leave becomes an ‘extended leave of absence’.” the snitch was practically giggling with the gossip. “Heh, talk about two freaks, huh?” 

Ignoring the comment, the deadly doctor thumbed to the last few files in the folder. The picture provided in that file was a blurry shot, probably from a security camera feed, zoomed in on his rival and this ...upstart, in mid conversation, in a town he didn’t recognize. He could care less about Kisaragi’s medical history, to be honest. Annoyingly, none of this explained the question that Kiriko really wanted answered: of all the people Black Jack knew, why had he chosen this frankly unremarkable person to let past all those damned walls of his? 

Realistically, he knew that no file was going to give him those answers so plainly. There were clues here, certainly, but none were particularly satisfactory. Kisaragi knew the man before the reputation; perhaps that played into it, though there were others who had the pleasure. Maybe there was guilt there, on the brilliant surgeon’s part, for failing to save the girl’s womanhood; unlike idiots like Tamago here, however, Kiriko suspected Kisaragi’s male presentation was not simply a matter of that. No matter how conservative social values played out here, he’d been well-traveled enough to know there was much more to that than biology. More likely, their shared trauma might play into the attraction, but Black Jack had plenty of trauma to spread around. It was pretty much his business, and there’d been no suggestion that such experiences might open the doctor’s cold, bitter heart. So what key had Kisaragi found that no one else had?

Kiriko hated to admit that he was jealous. He hated that he couldn’t just revel in the depravity of it all, unable to enjoy this new bit of blackmail as the snitch so obviously was. He’d expected to find something that would justify these feelings of annoyance and bitterness towards the little fool, but a small part of humanity still left in his withered soul felt a drop of sorrow for someone who, unlike himself or Black Jack, had done little to have such scorn levied upon him. 

Soon enough Kisaragi would learn how quickly happiness collapsed when curiosity turned on it. A hard lesson to learn, but there was little chance of stopping it. Sure, the deadly doctor had tipped off this rumormonger about these things, but it would have come out at some point, no matter how careful they were. Anyone with that much of a reputation would have to deal with gossip, and anyone close enough to that orbit was going to be the subject of those wagging tongues. The underworld was a nasty place, and one had to realize that you were going to get dirty the closer you got to it.

Returning right now to the house on the cliff tempted Kiriko. If what he’d been told was truthful, the stricken doctor would be out of the picture for at least another day. Perhaps he’d sow a little discord, teach that… _ brat _ what it meant to deal with the terrible dangers that came from walking into their world. 

But as much as he wanted to, Kiriko wasn’t without some honor, and despite it all, he had to be a little impressed with Kisaragi’s determination. Not many people stood up to death and kept their ground. It would be much more satisfying to tear him down after the emergency had passed, anyways. Let Black Jack suffer the fool a little longer. 

Everything returned to Death, eventually. 

\----------------------------

Sendai was mild, compared to the storms of the midlands. Osamu Hospital stood just outside the city proper, rising like a beacon of modernity among older apartment buildings and the mottled nature of fall. Considering the location critically, it really was a perfect cover for U.S. involvement in research there. It was close enough to Miyagi for clandestine observation, but the fact that it was far enough away from the official military presence kept the suspicions of their involvement to the minimum. 

Much of the building was overrun with work crews hard at work rebuilding the east laboratories. While much of the debris was cleared away from the accident that had happened nearly three months ago, there were still lingering signs of the tragedy, if one knew where to look. For a veteran like Kiriko, whose own experience with death and destruction was ever present, his eyes knew them well. The boarded windows, the stubborn soot that no pressure washer could quite erase, the way some of the rubble left twisted in macabre shapes. 

According to the files that Hammond had procured, the source of the explosion had officially been an over-pressurized gas line under the north edge of the building. Unofficially, however, there was a suspicion that the explosion had been deliberate, though by who, there were conflicting theories. Some suggested it had been done by outsider instigators, upset at the genetic testing and rumored animal abuses there; however, others with more knowledge of the timing and how the blast had gone off suspected that it had been an inside job.

Right when the famed unlicensed surgeon had come calling. A tad too suspicious, if you asked him, but the why still escaped him.

No doubt if that silly two toned troublemaker was around, he’d barge right in, using the information collected for answers. Crude and foolhardy, and entirely different from Kiriko’s own methods. Like an unexpected passing in the night, he hung around, listening to the chatter of nurses, interns and doctors to full of themselves to check their tongues.

“My, it’s getting cold so quickly-”

“-ah, yes, the poor man, to lose his son to his own research…”

“Did you see the Eagles game last night? It was a murder-”

“-Does Tenma ever come out of the lab these days?”

“Really, it was ridiculous, can’t trust what you read in the paper-”

“...well, yeah, I know all the seniors go to the bar on K street, but I was hoping to try…”

“Did you see the Americans in the other day? They did not look happy… wonder what research went badly this time....”

Kiriko flipped the file folder shut, the subtle smile dancing on his lips a dangerous one. Walking with the confidence that only a doctor knew, he approached the front desk, inquiring if they could make sure the esteemed Dr. Tenma received his card (no name, but for those who knew his work, it was enough). Then, to the bar on K street, after making sure he had a decent hotel not all that far away, should they need greater privacy. He kept his receipts, of course. If he was going to go through all this trouble for Black Jack, the least the man could do was pay.

The month since he’d last seen Kacho Tenma had not been kind to the man. His coat was dirty and wrinkled, from constant wear, and pulled high around to hide his face. Dark, thick bags weighed down under those angry eyes, and there was grey mixing in that curly mop and dark sprig of a beard. His skin was sallow, bunching at his scowled nose and frowning lips. He did not wait to be invited to the table, simply dropping into the open seat with little pretense.

“Your services aren’t needed anymore, so why are you calling now?”

Kiriko didn’t answer at first, instead letting himself enjoy his beer and the antsy movements of the researcher. It always was best to let them squirm first. “A few loose ends.”

“Look, it will take a while to get the rest of the money…”

“I’m not a man who likes to wait, Dr. Tenma.” A pause, to let the words sink in. “But you’re in luck. I might be able to waive some of the remaining fees for some… information.”

Bitter eyes narrowed at the deadly doctor. “What kind of information? You’re a dangerous man, Kiriko, but only _ one _. The Americans are very serious about their secrecy.”

“Nothing so crass. But what kind of work would inspire the desperation of a man to use his own son as a guinea pig, then employ not one back alley doctor, but two?”

The wild look in Tenma’s eyes as he grabbed the black lapels of the motorcycle jacket across the table assured the doctor of death he’d hit paydirt. “How- who- why?!?”

“There have been some… interesting conversations lately. Surely you must have known I would recognize the family resemblance of my client to you. I just hadn’t realized I was the second choice. What, did the great unlicensed surgeon meet a client he couldn’t cure?” Kiriko knew the answer already, but Tenma didn’t know that _ he _ knew. It would be useful to see how much of information from the conversation could be trusted.

The terribly bitter laugh conveyed the madness of a man who had lost it all. “If only. Then maybe I’d feel better about this mess.” Scanning the crowded bar, the researcher shook his head. “We can’t talk here. Follow me.”

Laying money on the table, Kiriko nodded. So nice when suspicions bore fruit.

\------------------------------

The sunlight pouring through the curtains of the clinic was far too cheerful for Kei’s liking, but it could only rain for so long, particularly since summer’s monsoon’s were long past. Pressing himself into the pillow, a small part of him expected to still be at sea, waiting for bellows of the crew at any minute, and his bunkmate’s teasing calls for him to get out of the bed.

There was no such teasing from the other bed; Black Jack, well into his days-long slumber, seemed completely unaware of the morning sunbeams that illuminated his soft features. In sleep, the mask of arrogance and anger that covered the two toned face slipped away, making him seem so much younger. At least, one hoped that was the case, and not a new symptom of this strange disease. 

Kei sighed, hauling himself from the covers and sliding his feet into the house slippers at the side of the bed. The last two nights, he’d slept in the clinic instead of the house’s bedroom with Pinoko, to keep an eye on his patient and for his own peace of mind. (It had nothing to do with the fact that sometimes, the child snored worse than a typhoon. Nothing at all). Sleep had come a little easier, for all the heartbreak that occurred every time he’d catch a glimpse of his sleeping companion, and remember that they wouldn’t share the morning.

The smell of unwashed sleeping clothes wrinkled his nose. Ugh. He’d need to help Pinoko with the laundry today. Thankfully, he’d learned the last few years to live with a limited wardrobe, with little space on vessels for anything more than a few suits and shirts, but he’d have to think seriously about picking up a few replacements soon. Unlike ships, little houses on the cliff didn’t have regular laundry staff, running loads constantly. 

He’d once seen if he could borrow one of Black Jack’s dress shirts. Kisaragi knew the man was taller than he was, but he hadn’t expected to be swimming in the damned thing, rendering any hope of extending his wardrobe through sharing moot. Unsurprisingly, he’d learned at the same time that 90% of Black Jack’s closet was the same damn suit, and save the white shirts, everything was black. Well, almost everything. There’d been a grey wedding suit in there, but he never dared ask what it was there for… or who had gotten the solitary doctor to have it. Kei’s heart wouldn’t have beared the knowledge. 

Pinoko was already tending to the kitchen when he stepped out of the clinic’s door. “Kisawagi! Shere’s shome natto left for you!”

The doctor tried his best to keep the disgust off his face. He’d never been fond of the fermented bean dish, no matter how traditional it was. Instead, he carefully filled the little stovetop espresso carafe which had served him well on the recent long nights. Pinoko made no qualms about showing her displeasure of the ‘adult’ drink, but clapped her hands as Kei joined it with a saucepan of milk for hot cocoa. When she made it, the milk always curdled before she could mix in the chocolate, and her guardian didn’t see the point of the overly sweet drink for breakfast.

“Thwank you, Kisawagi! You’re so cultshured compawred to the Doctor!” That caused the adult to smile. Black Jack had been to hundreds more countries than he had; but agree that the French were onto something about bread and chocolate to start the day, and suddenly you can do no wrong for a child (well, eighteen year old in a child’s body). “Can we go into town today?”

“Mm, I don’t see why not. I need to see how the samples from the last test turned out, but I suspect we do need groceries, and I could pick up a few things later....”

“YAY!” Pinoko rushed to her room, completely missing the ‘later’ of Kei’s answer. Oh, well. Snagging a bit more coffee, the doctor ambled back at the lab of the clinic, before turning back to his patient. The IV line seemed to be uncompromised as he switched out the saline bags, and the monitors reported everything was normal. 

Gently, Kei brushed the black and white hair from the front of the sleeping man’s face. “Pinoko’s asked to go to town later today. Hopefully, you don’t mind; I don’t have a car, so I’ll have to borrow yours.” As expected, there was no dissent from the other man.

Kei continued to speak softly to his patient as he went to the centrifuge. “It’s amazing how resilient she is, in all of this. She’s so independent, but I guess that comes with her guardian’s jet setting lifestyle. It’s too bad she won’t give primary school another chance. Meanwhile, I’m the adult here, and I’m talking to you as if at any moment, you’ll wake up and berate me for letting her have chocolate again for breakfast.”

For not the first time, Kei wondered if this had been a good idea, ignoring common sense and letting his walls around his heart down around Black Jack. Even without the strange little relationship, Kisaragi would have jumped to help the unlicensed doctor, and still have made that desperate call to the shipping company, putting in for a leave of absence. However, he’d still be able to keep his heart locked away, be able to keep his head clear of the troublesome what-ifs that plagued him with every decision he made. 

Like right now, he’d be able to fixate on each tube of separated plasma and red blood cells, instead of wondering what it would be like, had he’d been someone else; if not for the cancer, or his identity, would they have been happy? Even now, a terrible little voice (sounding not unlike that awful Kiriko) reminded him that all of this was in some ways his fault. If not for him, Black Jack might still be Kuroo Hazama, plying his brilliant skills as a licensed doctor, and not the social outcast. He’d never gotten in the situation he was in now, fighting for his life as his own body betrayed him.

_ No! _ Kei shook his head. _ How many of the people Black Jack had saved would still be here had he’d be forced to follow the JMA’s guidelines? What about Pinoko? _He had to remember that he had scolded Black Jack not to take a decision away from someone else, just because he had decided otherwise, particularly in matters of the heart. It was so easy to think it was safer to never take action at all, but all it really did was lose those chances to fear.

It was then he noticed that the last five samples seemed completely dried out, the plasma nonexistent in each vial. “What the-?” Had he’d been so distracted, that he’d forgotten to cap them properly? No, he’d believe that if it had been one or two, but not all five. What was the difference between these and the others? Wait, not all of them had come from the same draw. Could that be it?

He checked the dates on each cap. Sure enough, of the ten samples, the last five samples had been drawn 12 hours before the first. Normally, as long as they were stored properly, such a small difference wouldn’t mean much.

Curious, he placed a bit of plasma from the newer sample on a slide and maneuvered it under the high powered microscope. He looked at blood samples before, but back then, he’d been looking for corrupted red blood cells, as was typical of several blood-borne diseases. Had there been something different with the plasma itself?

He pulled the black ledger that contained everyone he knew who owed the surgeon a favor or could be trusted to keep the information quiet. “Hello, Dr. Tahomaru? I have some plasma samples I need analyzed, as soon as possible. Yes, I can have them on the way to you today....”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Hammond is that dude. I didn't like writing that.
> 
> Kiriko's not a complete monster, and given what he's seen over the years, I suspect he's more sympathetic to those forced to deal with the burdens of society, though he may not have the same optimism that Black Jack or Kisaragi does. 
> 
> Thank you, everyone, who's been so nice to leave comments. I've been having a really bad week, so I didn't write as much as I hoped to, and I've been worrying that I'm doing this all wrong. So the comments I've gotten have really helped me try to keep going.


	5. Suspicions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for minor gore.

The laboratory was still a disaster area, with most of the contents still smelling like smoke, hastily packed in dozens of cardboard boxes with little rhyme or reason, no doubt organization coming in second to saving it from the destruction of their former locations. A single gloved hand picked up a file folder labeled ‘Mutations in Stem Sample 4382’.

Kiriko turned from the file when Tenma clicked on a single desk lamp, away from the door, illuminating a desk that had obviously seen better days. “Over here. Most of the research was destroyed in the explosion, as you no doubt guessed. However, luck would have it, I managed to have some notes on me for a presentation, as well as a few of the test specimens housed elsewhere.”

The single pale eye of the deadly doctor betrayed nothing. Hammond’s back channel resources had suggested that it had indeed been Tenma’s lab targeted in the suspected attack. No doubt the notes had been on the researcher for him to entice Black Jack into doing some sort of risky procedure for him, in lieu of the usual outrageous fees involved; Kiriko’s own price had been partially covered by the life insurance of Tenma’s son. He noted the chained filing cabinet and fingerprint ID lock on the briefcase. “Quite a lot of secrecy, I see. But it still doesn’t answer my question. What was it all for?” 

The bitter scowl on Tenma’s face said a lot of the broken dreams collected here. “A short term genetic stem cell therapy, to help regrow lost tissue and circumvent the needs of transplants. No doubt you are familiar with  acromegaly, or proteus syndrome?”

Indeed, there had been a few clients over the years. “But both afflictions describe overgrowth of tissue in painful, out of control means. Neither would lead to the regrowth of tissue lost; it’d be like trying to give someone cancer for the tumors. Good for my line of work, in a way, but not yours, or a surgeon’s.”

The smug grin on the other man’s face suggested he expected this line of inquiry. “Ah, but what if we could control those processes? Make cells recall the blueprint of development, send signals down the nerves to reactivate the innate nature of cell replacement, creating endless stem cell production for rapid healing?”

“Then I’d say you could put most doctors out of business, making people nearly immortal if they could heal themselves without scalpel or transplant. Dangerous stuff, if it fell into the wrong hands. Did you succeed, then?”

The wiry research doctor grumbled. “Practically, if I could be so bold. Had three trials with promising results; we saw partial regeneration of lost tissue in test subjects over the course of treatment. Self-propagating genetic therapy worked best, but pinpointing the regrowth to lost tissue was particularly difficult. At first, it was as you mentioned; it was merely tumor growth that was stimulated, but with tweaking, we were able to have cells revert to the original growth mapped in the DNA for fetal development, but only with constant pumping of the drugs into the patient, making it neither cost effective or feasible long term. Redosu thought that was as far as we’d dare; anything else would be playing god. The stupid fool; why he got top billing is beyond me.”

Doctor Redosu had been Tenma’s research partner; one of the ten staff killed in the blast two months prior. Terrible suspicions began to brew in Kiriko’s brain, but he hid it well. “No doubt the military would be more interested in more ...efficient results. Don’t see why you needed me, or that  _ other _ doctor, though.” Play up the jealousy; it seemed to be an angle Tenma knew far too well. 

Wiry hands went to a cage, ilicting squeals from the terrified squeaks from the rodents inside. Well, most of the mice; a few still snoozed in a pile in the sterile hay, unaware of the danger looming. Tenma plucked one up, ignoring the cries of its companions, holding it up to the single light in the room. “To be perfectly honest, I’d hoped never to have to call you at all. You were merely a backstop should we need to clean up any ...mistakes that might happen. After all, if this became malignant or dangerous, we wanted to contain it... for the good of mankind, of course. That never came to pass, of course. We needed an angel of death for the mercy of who was supposed to be our first successful patient.” The mouse between his fingers was squeezed rougher than necessary, but it still slept on.

“We began to see more success when we made the treatment self replicating, allowing the regeneration to happen near instantaneously. There were side effects, but minor ones.”

“I don’t see how lengthy comas are ‘minor’ side effects.” Black eyes narrowed at the unlicensed doctor, indicating he may have tipped too much of his hand. 

“How did you- nevermind. Yes, test subjects would expend so much energy in regeneration they’d lapse into periods of extended unconsciousness, as their body recharged. We thought it would alleviate once the growth subsided, but we made a miscalculation.” The mouse was placed back in its cage with little concern for its well-being.

“It continued?”

“Well, yes, because we’d forgotten to factor in the wear and tear the body goes through just… existing. Just walking for more than ten minutes causes friction to remove skin and the buildup of lactic acid, picking something up over a certain weight causes microtears in muscle fibers allowing for muscle growth; all things that were being sped up by the treatment. By happening so quickly, the body was using up its energy supplies faster than it could replenish it, even with increased caloric consumption.”

The image of the strange ripple in Black Jack’s back when he’d picked up Kei off the floor flashed through Kiriko’s mind. “So once it started, there was no way to stop it. They’d keep healing themselves until they’d drop, recharge, then do it again. Hardly the super soldiers the military was looking for.”

“What did they know! I was handing them immortality on a plate! Men that could heal from any injury! Even if they got their brains blown out, it’d regrow into a blank slate that-” Tenma was working himself up into a martyr’s fervor.

“...You could just start over.” The young man had been in a bed, unresponsive, his head wrapped with bandages. When death had come calling, he’d assumed it was because of the explosion that had been on every front page a month before. “So that’s what happened to Tobio.”

The wild look in Tenma’s eyes proved his accuser right. “He had no right to leave me.” The words were a sickening snarl of grief and arrogance. Shuddering breaths racked the lean frame of the wild doctor, before he managed to pull himself together. “I’d been so close, too. The first test had partially regrown the damage, though the… patient couldn’t survive on his own, still. Redosu seemed to think it was better to use the drug as it was, then strip it out using a counteragent. That’s why he hired your little rival, there. Brought him under the context of checking the success of deep tissue regrowth, but I knew better. The military liked the idea of the cover story, of course; they wanted a third party to confirm what we were selling them was genuine, but one they could discredit or remove with little effort.”

“No one misses if an unlicensed back alley doctor goes missing.”  _ Except when they do _ .

“Indeed. However, Redosu didn’t think it through. If people knew the counteragent, someone could undo the hard work of healing with ease. What’s the point if they can just get hurt again?” There was an unnatural pitch to the man’s voice that made his guest uneasy. 

“So? You could just readminister the treatment. What happened with the trial?”

The way Tenma hunched over the cage of test mice, one would think the treasures of buddha were hidden there. “I overheard Redosu speaking with Black Jack before the exam about his theories. Made it all hypothetical about the bodies’ ability to dissolve protein aggregates, of course, so he couldn’t tip me off, but I knew; oh, I knew. I always was the smarter man here. I was to administer the initial treatment with Black Jack watching, while Redosu then delivered the documentation to the top brass, since they’d put him in charge of the project, after all. Only, an explosion ripped through the presentation, stopping him like he wanted to stop me.”

There was no question about it; Tenma was a madman. So wrapped up in saving his son from himself and everyone else, he’d kill for it. “Something went wrong, then?”

Tenma pulled out another sleeping mouse, holding revenantly. “ _ Whatever _ caused the explosion did it a little too soon, too close to our lab and the trial’s location. We’d been a little… too cautious, keeping all of our notes on a remote server, so they wouldn’t fall in the wrong hands. Save for a few dozen printouts of useless data, we lost it all. Even the initial treatment, loaded and so close to being delivered, was smashed in the explosion. Never had a chance to use it, and we couldn’t reverse engineer from proteins alone; it seemed that fool had kept more of the process a secret from me than I realized. The military withdrew funding and the only thing I could do was let my son die in peace. Redosu stole my victory yet again.”

The needle must have struck Black Jack in the explosion. Of course, no one noticed in the chaos, and two months later, I’m listening to a monster tell me how he lost his mind.

Gaunt fingers held the sleeping mouse its head, the tiny, vulnerable thing unaware of the danger it was in, so close to madness. “Ten years of work, lost in an instant; 16 years of raising a child for nothing. Now all I have left is half burned documents of my failure and a bunch narcoleptic mice who can’t even come back from the dead.” 

Even in the darkness, Kiriko shuddered at the sickening crack and squish of organic material that followed. “See? Can’t survive a little bit of pressure.” The corpse dropped into the cage with a wet thud. The other rodents swarmed the carcass, taking the dead flesh for themselves. “You can’t even use the treated subjects to transfuse it others, it refuses to self-replicate outside of the host. Not that I had any human subjects to- What?” The soliloquy was cut short as the researcher glared at his audience.

“I said nothing.” The saner doctor shifted uncomfortably away from the stare. He was glad he’d let nothing slip about his rival’s condition. Tenma seemed a man possessed about all of this, and it was only a matter of time before he was caught. The fact he could use this as an excuse to wipe his hands clean of this monster was almost worth the 200,000 yen. “So there was nothing more to the result of your research. At least your son is at peace.”

“He could have done so many great things… he just needed a little more time. But now you need to answer me this: how did you know? What little bird told you about my research? Surely you didn’t pick up on all of this when I called for you back then.” Tenma took a step closer, and the other man gagged at the smell of blood and gore still on the researcher’s hand. “Has your rival been spinning tales? I’d have thought that Redosu hadn’t told him enough to piece anything together, but…”

“Hardly. We of the black market know better than to whisper trade secrets, even if we knew anything; which I assure you, the man’s too thick to understand anything besides the slash of scalpel. I only had heard of his travel here, and had to see if there was something more that I should look into. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll take my leave.” 

There was suspicion in the look that Tenma gave him, but Kiriko knew better than to acknowledge it; to do so would be the mark of a guilty man. “Yes… yes. I hope you’ve enjoyed your macabre show, I have work to do. You can see your way out, yes?”

The corridors of the hospital were eerily quiet, save for the click of the retreating doctor’s boots on the polished tile. Tenma counted under his breath, before turning to the phone buried under several piles of paper. Pushing them aside, his sharp fingers plucked up the handset and pressed a series of buttons for a secure line to a base in Miyagi. The english felt awkward in his throat, but he managed easily enough.

“Yes, general. We may have a loose end that needs to be taken care of. No, no, nothing so drastic. It has to do with the clean up crew; sniffing a bit more than expected”. 

There was a muffled sound from the other end of the line.

Tenma grimaced as he noticed the bits of gore still on his hand, but nodded. “Unusual, yes; both men aren’t known for breaking client confidentiality. Perhaps that mole of ours passed more information than we expected. Perhaps if we kept an eye on them for a little while?”

The murmur on the other end of the line seemed to be in agreement.

“Myself? I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I-” The murmur was louder this time, with unfriendly tones. “...Yes. Yes, I realize this predicament was due to my own negligence. I understand. Yes, sir. No, sir.” 

The phone clicked back in its cradle. Shortly afterwards, the solitary bulb in the lab flickered off, and the madman stalked down the halls himself.

In their cage, sleeping mice began to stir, diving for the little remaining food in their cage. Scurrying feet kicked up the wood chips, burying what little remained of their nestmate from sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but ugh, so hard to write, since it involves the most medical gobblity gook. I tried to keep the science somewhat realistic? Dunno if I succeeded. Also, yes, I am using the Star System for my own evil ends. 
> 
> Thank you all again for your kind comments. I spent sooo much time getting angry and erasing this chapter over and over again, because I want to make this right. I admit, I had the beginning and the end fairly mapped out, but the middle, oof. Please, please keep commenting. It's keeping me going.


	6. Introspection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... what happens next?

“You’re sure.” Kei looked over to his sleeping patient, wishing for the thousandth time that he was awake, if only because then he could talk to the snake on the phone instead. 

“No question. Tenma’s utterly insane; either his son’s suicide attempt or just the stress finally got to him, but there is no trusting him. But he seemed to think that Redosu passed along to Black Jack a means to reverse the treatment. See if he can recall anything about the conversation; he mentioned ‘stripping it out using a counteragent’, and that it seemed protein derived.” Kiriko seemed to be out of breath, as if he’d run through a battlefield.

“Well, that lines up with what I’ve found.” Kei had continued looking at the samples after he’d sent them to Dr. Tahomaru’s lab. There were thin silvery strands in the plasma, that seemed to be chains of protein aggregate. Something that wouldn’t come out in toxicology tests, or even be particularly noticeable at first glance. “You mentioned military, here. Should we be expecting brass to be showing interest in this?” Should he expect to move Black Jack, if they were discovered?

“I’m not sure. Tenma’s gone off the deep end, that’s for sure, but that could be craziness that the Americans find an asset, not a flaw, if they don’t know it was him that caused the explosion.” Knowing the Americans, even that might not be much of a flaw, depending how useful the research was. If it really was in ruins, though, they might have an edge on going unnoticed.

“Then I hope you have the professional courtesy of not leading them to our door. With the patient unconscious for at least a couple more hours, it would be hard to move him quickly.”

“You are the last person allowed to be lecturing _ me _ on professionalism, dearie. But-”

Kisaragi stared at the phone in disbelief. “Did you just call me ‘dearie?”

“Nevermind that, one more thing that Tenma mentioned that you should know: as you may have guessed, but this treatment of his doesn’t differentiate between what it’s healing. Surgery or day to day wear and tear, it will want to fix it as soon as possible. If you can, keep him from moving around too much, he might last a bit longer. Even muscle microtears eat up energy reserves.”

Kei groaned. “You think I don’t know that? The man is stubborn to a fault. I’d sooner stop him from breathing. You can tell him yourself and see if he listens!”

The condescending laugh on the other end of the line did little to ease the bristling Kei felt. “Don’t shoot the messenger. One last thing; as fantastic as this is, it doesn’t prevent death, if it’s quick enough. Tenma made that abundantly clear.” Even through the phone, the young man could tell the former military man had been rattled by his encounter with the supposedly unhinged research doctor. 

“I suspected that much… there are limits to everything.” Still, confirmation might make the patient a little more cautious… oh, who was he kidding, Black Jack was reckless on the best of days, even before this. “Are you planning on darkening our doorstep anytime soon?”

“‘Our’? Aren’t we getting a little presumptuous, you little upstart? But yes… I’ll probably be back in a few days. I’ll try and time it so you can hide behind the real man of the house, and we can put this all to rest… one way or another.”

Kei bit his cheek, trying his best not to rise to the bait. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to look after _ my _ patient.” It took all his self-restraint not to slam the phone back in its cradle after hanging up. The sheer arrogance of that… that snake was beyond him. He had no idea how much those words cut at Kisaragi… he _ couldn’t. _

Fighting back against the annoyance rising up his spine, the young doctor looked back at the sample he’d been observing before the call. Red blood cells were constricted by what seemed to be a mix of dried plasma and a slurry of protein aggregate. No doubt about it; this was tied to the mysterious treatment that laid the great surgeon low. 

So… what did it all mean? Could this be the trigger, or was it merely yet another symptom? His pen hovered over the list of hypotheses he’d jotted down in the file. The aggregate was only crystalizing when removed from the body, suggesting that either exposure to oxygen or lack of movement triggered the slurry; when it began to form, it began bonding with the water in the plasma, leaving the blood to appear dried out; freezing or keeping the blood in a centrifuge delayed the process, but did not stop crystallization once it had already started. The most promising test had been when additional distilled water was added to a crystallized sample: the aggregate would break apart, and did not reform into larger chains.

A sigh escaped Kei, blowing a lock of the dark brown hair from his eyes as he slipped his glasses back on. Not for the first time, he was amazed at the equipment crammed into Black Jack’s clinic. Most ships had to save space and weight; he’d be lucky to have more than a portable x-ray, microscope and a few more items to jury rig together.

_ Maybe Kiriko is right… You are out of your league here _ , his inner self-doubt whispered in his ear. _ You’re useless; a hanger-on, a fraud on every level _. 

The voice had been growing louder, the longer this dragged on. The fact that it sounded more and more like the snake of death was not lost on Kei, but sometimes, it was hard to fight when Black Jack’s sleeping form reminded him that everything they had was so… tenuous. If they didn’t find a cure, and this somehow got worse… what would happen to Pinoko? To the house? Was there others waiting for the demise of the unlicensed surgeon, who’d come to collect on perceived debts?

But there was a deeper worry, buried under the hyperbolic what ifs of this illness winning; what happened when this was all over, for good or bad? They’d carved out a comfortable pattern before; voyage plans were shared, and the patients who’d clamored for a great surgeon’s skills were arranged for. It allowed for a day or two of shore leave shared, away from prying eyes and the conservative views of Japanese society. It had been insular and easy to brush off as something convenient, and if it had fallen through… well, it was a casual affair among two lonely men.

But now, after the immediacy of the crisis had fading from those first few days, Kei had found himself enjoying this simple slice of domesticity. Particular those few hours that Black Jack was awake, and the three of them moved in a simple dance of chores, work and enjoying each other’s company… it was often no more space than the cramped bulkholds of a ship, but it felt like a whole secret world there, shared between just them. There, the ship’s doctor got to see Black Jack, not the cold unlicensed surgeon; nor the passionate man who’d denied his feelings for so long; but the kind, exasperated father, so similar to the medical student Kisaragi had fallen for, another lifetime ago. Would he be locked out of this, the moment a cure arrived, and be relegated back to a dalliance?

Pulling off his glasses, Kei shook his head of these dour musings. Hadn’t he just been chastising himself for not pulling his weight in this mess? No wonder Kiriko viewed him with such disdain, pining for something that was impossible. It was painfully obvious that something about him ticked off the euthanasia enthusiast; jealousy and frustration had rolled off the older man in waves the longer he’d stuck around.

The aggregate under the microscope had grown thick and sticky, turning the liquid plasma into a film that coated the red blood cells. A single drop of distilled water, and it all washed away, as if there had never been a bond at all. There was a metaphor there, but the young doctor preferred not to think of what.

“Dr. Kisawagi, who was on da phowne?” Pinoko stood at the door, pajamas on and stuffed animal in hand, as the little girl rubbed the sleep from her eyes with a fist.

“Dr. Kiriko. He thinks he’s found the source of what made Black Jack sick, but I don’t know how helpful it will be. There might be dangerous men involved.”

Pinoko made a face. “Bleh. He’s nashty.” The girl tilted her head in thought for a moment. “But he’s hwelpful, someshimes. Usually he jush wants to be mean though.”

Kei smiled a sad little smile and picked the small girl up, walking back into the darkened house with her perched on his hip. “Well, if we’re lucky, he’ll be more helpful than I’ve been. Let’s get you back to bed; Black Jack will be awake tomorrow morning, and he’ll need your expert care.”

Pinoko pouted. “But Kisawagi is hewlpful! You makesh da bwest cocoa!”

That got a chuckle out of him. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to do it yourself, so you can make it even after I leave.” The young doctor hummed a little nursery rhyme as he tucked the little girl in. 

Pinoko frowned at the suggestion of losing her assistant housekeeper, but didn’t touch it, yet. “Pwomise?”

“Of course. Good night, Pinoko.”

“Good night, Kei!” 

It was only a moment later, as he quietly placed his glasses on the nightstand and wrapped himself in the smells of the man he loved, did realization struck. Nearly a month of this, being a poor substitute for the girl’s guardian, and over half a year since he’d slipped in and out of their lives; this was the first time that Pinoko had ever called him something besides ‘Dr. Kisawagi’. 

He wanted to be thrilled. Instead, a growing dread settled like a blanket over him, threatening to swallow him whole.

\--------------------

Shortly after dawn, Kiriko checked the motorcycle carefully, the years of military training served him well in a field where dangerous men carried terrible grudges. He had to admit, he wasn’t surprised when he found the small box attached by a magnet to the lower tank. This close to secret military personnel, particularly after asking probing questions of a failed secret project, was going to get you followed or at least reminded that they could track you easily. The deadly doctor would not admit that he felt a bit put out when he noted the homing box wasn’t even a newer model; last time this happened, they at least had the decency to use equipment that was slightly more cutting edge. He really needed to take a few more high profile clients to remind them why he was considered one of the best.

Carefully, Kiriko picked up a spare piece of rebar from the corner, prying the homing device off with the precision of a scalpel. As soon as the magnets register the loss of a connection, the box let out an ominous beep, then detonated, sending shrapnel flying in all directions and leaving the slender ex-military man blinking away spots from the bright flash. “Damn!” If he’d pulled the box with his hand, no doubt he’d be looking at missing fingers… or worse.

As it was, Kiriko could count his blessings; other than a few minor scratches, both he and the Honda were only a little worse for wear. Still, he had to admit the use of such deadly force was unexpected, and left him a little shaken. Whoever had placed the damned thing was sending a message that suggested that no one in the mess was above being expendable. Kisaragi’s suggestions that they could be dealing with a cover-up looked more and more a possibility, but something about how this was set up felt… suspicious, somehow. There were still missing pieces involved, and hopefully his call Tamago last night would result in a little illumination.

But first, he had a client to see in Miyagi. Poor fellow, tired of the grip of pain and a life that had been extended far too long. Luckily, he saw the value of a dignified death, and had the resources to make it happen, and Kiriko was nothing if not a professional. Sure, it wasn’t as fun without the thrill of possibly besting the life-giving miracle surgeon, but the knowledge of his uninterrupted mercy was plenty satisfying.

The angel of death chuckled. Maybe he’d rub it in Black Jack’s face later while his little plaything watched. Just the thought alone had him smiling all the way to Miyagi. 

\----------------------

The quiet that lay throughout the house on the cliff seemed to weigh on its inhabitants. Two pairs of house slippers dragged along the floorboards, listlessly moving through the kitchen and clinic, hoping for a third pair to join them soon.

Kei tried to concentrate on the movement on the knife in front of him. Cutting lotus root and sweet potato was always a tricky business, even more so when his mind was waiting for something to happen. Would Tahomaru call with the test results on the plasma protein aggregate? Would Kiriko darken the doorstep, bringing with him death and danger? Would Black Jack-

The clinic door creaked open, and it was sheer luck that the knife-point slipped left instead of right, missing the bandaged finger for the cutting board.

“DOWCTOR!” Pinoko was immediately attached to her guardian like a burr, climbing up his leg to his hip to hug his neck. Annoyance crossed his face as he stumbled against the IV pole, but he let her keep her perch.

Kei frowned for a moment. Black Jack was fully dressed in his favored black slacks, dress shirt and bow tie, which the other man had left for him in the clinic, should ‘guests’ arrive before the patient awoke. Dressing would have meant that the man had to have removed the IV port, as he was wont to do anyway, so why was he carting it around…?

Realization struck with a laugh. “Ku… Black Jack, thank you, but I don’t think you need to, uh, defend anyone’s honor this time around.”

With a slight blush, the pole was pushed off to a corner and the three of them sat down for the simple meal of fish, rice, natto, bread and coffee (along with hot cocoa for Pinoko, garnished with a side eye from her guardian). 

“So you think dealing with the protein aggregate might be a way to reverse this?” Black Jack accepted the seconds, or possibly thirds, from the little girl.

“Well, maybe. Tahomaru will hopefully let us know sooner rather than later. I’ll get you my notes in moment. Can you think of any clues from what Dr. Redosu told you, back then? Anything at all?”

The other man fell silent as he thought back to two months ago. “Nothing comes to mind. Redosu was hesitant about the experiment that they were doing, that was sure. He mentioned to me that Tenma was chasing ghosts… something about clearing cobwebs with a good cleaning, since things were breaking down. I assume he was talking about Tenma’s mental state. Even without the explosion, I was having second thoughts about my involvement. If what Kiriko says is true, it’s surprising that Tenma was the one who hired me. Perhaps because Dr. Redosu was top billing, and they didn’t want him sullied by association?”

Kei pushed around the rice in his bowl. “I’m just worried who might come knocking, if they knew there was a successful guinea pig up and about.”

“Kiriko said they couldn’t transfer the treatment from living subjects, didn’t he? If that’s true, then I’m useless to them.”

“_If_ Kiriko is telling the truth. _If_ no one wants to try. _If_ someone doesn’t decide it’s too dangerous to have a loose end.” The rice was becoming paste under the smaller man’s chopsticks, before the bowl was shoved away in frustration. “I’ll go get you the notes and observations.”

As Kisaragi left the kitchen, Pinoko glared at the black and white doctor. “Now Kei ish gonna leavsh us for shure!” Tiny arms crossed as she harumphed dramatically.

Dark, thick eyebrows drew together with the scowl. “What are you talking about?”

The little girl’s lip quivered dangerously, warning her guardian to tread lightly here. “Lasht night Dr. Kisawagi said he wash gonna teach me how to make cocoa so I can makesh it aftwer he leaves. Sho I know he’sh not shtaying anymowre! I don’sht wansht Kei to leavesh! WaAAAAH!” The latter half of the statement was fast approaching one of Pinoko’s epic tantrums.

A scarred hand slapped over her mouth, muffling the wailing, at least temporarily. “Knock it off, Pinoko! I didn’t tell Kei to leave. I…” Scars twisted as frustration warred with confusion on his features.

“Tell me everything Kisaragi told you the last few days, and anything else that happened.” He pulled his hand away, but put it back when Pinoko’s quivering lips betrayed the continuing wailing that was coming. “_Without crying _. You’re a big girl, and if I am going to figure this out, Kisaragi doesn’t need to know you’re telling me all this.”

\------------------------

He had meant to come right back out with the file, but there had been an email from Dr. Tahomaru, saying they were running every test that they could do to identify the specific protein chain in the plasma. Then there’d been another one from Dr. Tezuka, asking if there had been any developments, and next thing the slight doctor knew, he was knee deep in an article on plasma makeup disorders and treatments, hoping for a possible clue. So engrossed in a plasma replacement, Kei didn’t notice the clinic’s door creak open, or the quiet footfalls behind him.

He nearly jumped out of the chair when Black Jack’s voice was at his ear. “I agree; when I was looking over your notes this morning, my first thought was using plasma replacement to strip out the protein aggregate might do the trick. Still, it would depend on how the protein regenerates.” If the larger man noticed how startled his companion was at his appearance, he didn’t mention it.

Kei accepted his coffee cup that he’d forgotten in the kitchen. “W-well, not only that, we would have to filter through the blood cells through some sort of cleaner to make sure there isn’t aggregate to solidify later on, if it’s just taking it out of the body that causes the chaining that happens.” Taking a long draw of the dark roast, Kei took the moment to organize his thoughts. “Sorry.” He confessed.

“For what?”

“For not coming back out quickly. I keep forgetting we’re on a time table.” Smaller shoulders pulled together, drawing lean limbs in on themselves. “Sorry for not having this all figured out. With all that we have, I should have more than just a half baked theory on what this might be, and a miserably thin lead on a treatment that might not even be possible. I couldn’t even figure out where this came from, yet that… _ murderer _ managed to figure it out in three days!” 

Suddenly, it was all too much. The helplessness, the inadequacy, the realization that nothing he did really mattered, it rolled over him like a typhoon. The sigh that rattled out of him seemed to suck him further into the chair, away from the scrutinizing gaze of the not-really-his patient.

“What else did Kiriko tell you, when he called?” The two toned face was carefully neutral. _ Of course, he thinks I probably missed some clue that Kiriko had found_. Kei wracked his brain, trying to remember any details he’d missed.

“W-well, not really all that much, besides detailed descriptions of Tenma’s mental state based on his observations, as well that he had business to take care of first, but he’d be back in another three days, when you’d be awake, i-if you want confer with him then…” 

Black Jack raised his eyebrows slightly. “Is that why you want to leave?”

Eyes blinked behind square glasses. “I-what?”

Leaning against the desk, the unlicensed surgeon gently spun the office chair, so the curled up ship doctor had to look at him. “Pinoko is convinced I’ve somehow been more of an ass than usual, and you’re on the next ship out.” The wince in response did little to alleviate the concerns in the patchwork doctor.

“It’s not... I’m just… Look.” Kei sighed, avoiding looking at the patchwork face he lo-_ cared _for. “We both know that I’m not doing much to help here, and hopefully you’ll have some cure, or at least answers that will fix this. You’ll go back to your brilliant ways, and I’ll go back to being a ship’s doctor.”

Taking a risk, Kei looked up at Black Jack to see his reaction, but he’d turned away from him. “You’ve been a lot of help here.”

“Thanks, but I’m not an idiot. I always knew you were on another level, but it’s one thing to hear it and another to see it. Really puts my own work in perspective, that’s for sure.”

“Kei…”

“Well, it’s true! The fact that you do all ...this, as a one man OR is beyond comprehension! You’re a veritable god of surgery!”

“Kei, you’re trying to change the subject. What did Kiriko say to you that has you this wound up?” Black Jack crouched in front of the chair, holding the other man’s face in his calloused hands, before kissing that spot just above the nose bridge of the glasses.  
“It’s not Kiriko.” Kei bit his lip, as he always did when the other man got a little too close to the truth. “Ugh, I really am useless… it was just an off hand comment got me thinking about how much I’m intruding here.”

The scarred hands did not let go of his face, and the pale lips acquiesced to the mouth that pressed against his shortly afterwards. “You’re anything but useless or intruding, and you don’t get to tell me otherwise. Now, come on; we have work to do, and there’s a brat in the kitchen who keeps demanding something about ‘cultured gentleman’. How you manage to keep her in line I will never know.”

Kei rolled his eyes and let the larger man pull him out of the chair. They hadn’t really come to an answer, but they could put it off for a while longer, yet.

He had a moment to breathe a sigh of relief before the phone began to ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little late this week. Still sick, and I rewrote this three separate times before giving up. You have to feel for Kei; he's dealing with these professional outlaws, and it's got to wear on any self-worth one has. 
> 
> Thank you all for your wonderful comments and kudos. I am forever grateful, and they're the whole reason I am able to keep posting. Please continue, if you can.


	7. Call a Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three calls come in to the clinic on the cliff. Will any of them bring good news, as a new symptom is observed?

The antique phone of the house on the cliff rang shrilly through the house, freezing all movement of the occupants for a full minute, before the answering machine kicked in. Black Jack’s cool even tones filled the room, asking the caller to name their needs and their price, before the shrill buzzer announced the start of the recording.

After a pause, a raspy voice filled the room, the static of the old-fashioned recording giving the man’s voice a menacing quality. “Ah… Doctor Black Jack, I had hoped to reach you in person…”

The man in question identified the caller. “That’s Doctor Tenma.”

Kei’s eyes widened, pieces clicking into place. “The one Kiriko warned us about.”

The unlicensed surgeon nodded. “Mm. Looks like you were right to be concerned-”

The recording continued. “...I hope that you understand the need for secrecy in my dealing with you, and delete this recording as soon as you’ve heard it. It regards the job we hired you for that was so… unfortunately cut short.”

“While much of the research was unfortunately lost, I’ve been… made aware that you might have some information from Doctor Redosu that would be ...beneficial in reconstructing much of what was lost. If possible, I’d like to meet in a discreet location to discuss it. It’s very interesting research, guaranteed to revolutionize the medical world! If you can, I’d like to offer you the same position as Doctor Redosu-”

The two doctors listening looked at each other. “Dead.” They said in unison.

“Don’t contact me by phone, I’ll call you again, later, so do pick up. I can’t have this being traced. There are far too many eyes watching that might ...misconstrue your involvement. So please, your discretion is greatly appreciated, and leave no trace of our contact.” With that, there was a click, and silence filled the room where Tenma’s audible sneer once was.

Kisaragi let out a shaky sigh as he leaned against the doorframe, coming to grip with his fears realized. “Do you think the military is involved in this?” His mind was running a mile a minute. “Should we be looking for a different location? A safe house?”

Black Jack didn’t respond at first, instead silently stalking into the kitchen, Kei and Pinoko following closely behind. The smaller doctor noted that the not-really-his patient was favoring proteins and high fat foods as the man grazed through the pantry. 

“You’we gonna getsh faaaaat…” Pinoko muttered before her guardian shot her a glare. She ignored him, but pushed up her nose into a piggie face as soon as he turned his back to her.

“If you’re that concerned about what being eaten in this house, maybe I should get rid of all the chocolate in the house, particularly that hot chocolate mix….” That made Pinoko squeak, wide eyed, before her temper had her attempting to kick a black clad shin.

Kei rolled his eyes so hard, he thought for a moment they might hit the back of his head. Sometimes he wondered about his… aquaintance’s mental maturity, outside of the OR. “If we could get back to the issue at hand… Black Jack, I’m serious about this. We need to consider moving you to a safe house until we can figure out how to cure you and distract the military.”

“I don’t actually think the military is involved.”

Kei frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

“I’ve dealt with the Americans before. If they wanted information out of me, they wouldn’t use Tenma to contact me. And if they wanted me dead, well…” He made the motion of a gun going off with his hand. “They’re not big on subtlety, at least as far as dealing with unlicensed back alley surgeons.”

“Even with witnesses in the house?” Coffee would do little to calm his nerves, but Kei decided it was better to keep himself busy, rather than simply watch the other man pace the kitchen like a restless animal.

Black and white hair swayed as the other man shrugged. “Not sure, but I don’t think it would matter that much. They’re not big on thinking ahead all that much, in my experience.”

Coffee brewed, Kei refilled his cup and remembered the lotus root he’d left out on the counter. “Guess I should cook that now...Is kinpira renkon alright? I know it’s not much, but I figured you’d like something other than curry three days in a row.” Sure, Pinoko and he had made plenty of other things during the 72 hour wait, but it was easy to forget that for the afflicted man, his yesterday was three days ago. 

“That’s fine; you don’t have to rush, though. I’m not needing to eat constantl-” Whatever else Black Jack was going to say was cut off by a large growl from his own stomach. 

Pinoko snickered, peering at her guardian from behind Kei’s legs. “Piggie!” She exclaimed as she held up her nose again, running out of the grasp of menacing scarred hands.

“Come back here so I can spank you properly!” The two ran out of the kitchen, back out into the living room proper, and all Kei could do was trail behind them, sipping his drink and ignoring the ache in his heart.

After running in circles around the room, the redheaded devil of a child dove behind the piano, wedging herself just far enough that Black Jack couldn’t reach. Even rolling up his sleeves, his reach was just short, and he wasn’t able to follow her through the narrow space. Letting his temper get the better of him, he shoved the piano away from the wall.

“Black Jack, stop!” The man paused, scowling at the smaller man for siding with the little brat, until he noticed the intense curiosity behind the glasses.

Kisargi crouched next to the larger man, his gaze focused on the bare arm. “Do that again.”

“What, push?”

“Mm.” Black Jack pushed the piano again (completely missing that Pinoko had already slipped out the other side), watching his own arm just as Kei was doing. Tiny ripples moved under the skin as he pushed, and strangely, the heavy instrument moved easier than the last time.

“Smaller than last time, but you saw that, right?” lithe fingers traced the path he’d seen. “The flexor carpi radialis is slightly larger; not significantly, but there’s a slight difference in definition. Good grief, even if it was just microtears, it shouldn’t be that dramatic. No wonder you need constant caloric input. It’s like the scars; rather that just replace or regenerate, it’s subtly ‘improving’ wherever it’s working on.” 

Black Jack held the offending forearm, feeling where Kei just touched. “So not just speeding up healing, it’s making each process more efficient. Shedding dead skin cells doesn’t just trigger replacement, it smooths out scars. Exert a muscle...”

Kei frowned. “And it’s like repeating the motion a hundred times. That’s an alarming new wrinkle in this. What about cell degradation? Is this reversing that, or speeding it up? You could be aging faster, rather than slowing it down.” Kei wished he’d pushed the idea of sending samples to a geneticist, but then again, they probably didn’t have that kind of time, if the worst was true. “Anyways, this is more proof that you shouldn’t be pushing yourself, loathe as I am to agree with that horrible death doctor.” 

Before Black Jack could roll his eyes and argue, the phone rang again, and this time, the owner of the house strode over to it quickly, picking up the handset before the second ring finished. “Black Jack speaking.”

Instead of the cold professionalism Kei was expecting, there seemed to be surprise playing on the two toned face after a moment of listening. “Ah, right, my associate sent the samples to you yesterday. So there’s evidence of artificially created protein chains? Uh-huh.” He noted Kei’s questioning look. ‘Tahomaru’ he mouthed, before turning back to the phone. “Well, he has a hypothesis that it might be cleared with a total plasma replacement. Yes, we know it’s a risky maneuver, but it was successful in that e.coli case in America; my question is, can you see how the protein reacts to a plasma infusion, or say, a mixture of donated plasma and distilled sterile water? Yeah, we noticed that too, thus the mixture idea. You’ll have the results by this evening? Yes, send over everything you can. It’s a matter of life and death.”

“Well?” Kisaragi asked, impatient as the phone was hung up. He knew the man was being dramatic when stating it was ‘a matter of life and death’, but the phrase brought out all the terrible what-ifs that had plagued him the last few days.

“You were right, the protein aggregate is definitely not a natural configuration. Additionally, the protein reacts poorly to certain changes in the plasma make-up.” Black Jack flipped through a little black book, its entries in medical shorthand to disguise the names and numbers listed there. This was his favors book; whenever he needed something beyond his standard medical equipment, he’d use whatever leverage he could to secure it in another hospital. Kei had little doubt his own name was somewhere in those pages.

“Should we go back to Tezuka? It might be a good idea not to involve more people in this than we have to…” The unlicensed doctor may be confident, but Kisaragi was learning to be paranoid.

Finding what he needed, quick fingers dialed a number. “Kiriko knew someone was calling on my behalf when he came barging in here. If he found out about my condition so easily, no doubt it’s already running through back channels. So we might as well go where there’s better equipment for our needs.” He listened as the phone rang. “That, and if I cash in any more favors with Tezuka, he might start thinking he can weedle me into consulting again. Last time he tried to get me dealing with a crazy taxi driver...”

Kei moved to the kitchen, blood pounding in his ears, pushing down the several warring emotions trying to take over. This was it, then. They might have actually found a cure. Everything told him he should be elated.

So why was dread threatening to swallow him whole?

______________________

There was a movement further down the path, and it set Kiriko on edge. No question about it, someone was following him, and not doing a particularly good job about it, even in the crowds of Miyagi’s largest park. They’d been tailing him since at least where he finished his latest job, the single pale eye catching the movement on the peripheral as he purposely walked in circles, trying to catch them in the act. 

_ Good enough to keep up, but not good enough to keep me from noticing.  _ Maybe they wanted him to know of the tail, hoping to spurn him into action. If so, what did they want him to do?

Whatever the purpose, it was starting to grate on the former military doctor’s nerves, and he’d been having such a wonderful day, too. The family of his patient had been so grateful for relieving their patriarch’s painful suffering; they even had paid in full right then and there. Much easier to deal with than that snake, Tenma…

_ Tenma _ . Kiriko swore. Of course the man would try and follow him; what better way to figure out who was leaking information about his secrets? The deadly doctor hated to admit it, but it seemed that little pipsqueak hanger-on of Black Jack had been onto something when he’d worried about someone coming after them from the project. If Tenma was following him, who was going after the laid-up unlicensed surgeon?

Stepping back into the larger crowd around the park’s walkways, Kiriko considered his options. He could try and lose the tail, though it wasn’t easy to hide his rather… exotic features with so few tourists hanging about. If this was Tokyo, he’d have an easier time, but here, with most of those about were either clean cut office workers and a few Americans from the nearby base. He could also stop in a cafe, either forcing his pursuer to come in after him, or wait for him to finish. That was enticing; a decent coffee and a chance to call the stricken doctor during his few hours of consciousness might help him decide his next course of action.

\------------------------------------

When the phone rang a third time, Kisaragi picked up the phone, desperate for a distraction from the not-really-his patient, who was ignoring every recommendation he tried to make the man stick to. Even mentioning that Kiriko said he should take it easy didn’t stop the surgeon from continuing to experiment with this newest symptom. 

“I’m not going to listen to a man whose only specialty is death, and neither should you,” was the only answer Kei had gotten after that plea.

“He has a point…” But Black Jack had already resumed seeing how his body reacted to different stimuli; stripped to a pair of shorts, he was lifting, pushing and going through a variety of light exercise to see what would create another ripple under the skin. In any other circumstance, Kei had to admit he would have enjoyed the show far more than some had a right to, but right now, all it was doing was making him frustrated, and not in a hot under the collar sort of way.

“Hello, this is the Black Jack clinic, how can I help you?” Behind him, the surgeon in question harumphed at the far too friendly tone.

“Still haven’t added your name to the title? At least you have some sense to keep yourself relegated. Is the good doctor awake? I want to make sure he got all my information correctly, and keep him abreast of a few new developments.”

Kisaragi had no energy for a retort to Kiriko’s banter. “I’m well aware of my place here, have no worry of that. He is indeed awake, experimenting with a new symptom we-  _ he’s _ noticed. If you give me a moment, I’ll-” Whatever else he was going to say was cut short as the man in question gently pulled the phone out of Kei’s hand.

“Kiriko.” The tone was cold, but expectant.

“Ah, there you are, Sleeping Beauty. You’ve discovered a new symptom?”

Kei stood there, hand outreached for a moment more, before letting it fall to his side, as useless as he felt. He considered listening in, but the feeling of intrusiveness was growing to big to ignore, and suddenly anywhere other than here was preferable. Shutting the clinic door, he left the two dark doctors in continue their discussion unobstructed by distractions.

Black Jack growled in frustration as he watched the smaller man leave with lowered shoulders. “That’s not important right now. What the hell are you telling Kisaragi?” He tried to keep his voice cool, but the heat of his anger bit through.

“Me? Oh my, is there trouble in paradise?” The mockery in the older man’s voice was condescending. 

“Kiriko, I’m warning you once. Tell me exactly what you’ve been needling Kisaragi with, or I swear, when this is over I will treat every single one of your patients. For free, if I have to.”

“Hmph, you say that as if I wouldn’t enjoy the challenge. Really, though, I’m just reminding the poor little rookie of the truth of things, that’s all.”

“Bullshit. If you knew anything, you’d keep your damned mouth-”

The ex-military doctor cut him off. “I know a lot more than you suspect, Black Jack. If anything, that little college sweetheart of yours should consider it a compliment I waste any time ‘needling’ him. Was he a good little secretary and parlay what I found?”

The mention of ‘college sweetheart’ made Black Jack freeze for a moment.  _ How did he-? _ Nevermind, it wasn’t worth giving the deadly doctor the satisfaction. “Kisaragi did a whole lot more than that. We may have a lead on a cure, thanks to his hard work.”

The surprise was genuine on the other end of the line. “Really? So the little pipsqueak has his use! What will you do?”

Again, Black Jack considered exploding at Kiriko, but realized that was what the other man craved. “Why should I tell you?” He smirked at the growl on the other end. “You seem to think it’s your place to decide where everyone’s place is around here. So I’m going to give you one last ultimatum: start playing nice if you want to continue to be in the loop. Otherwise, we’ll see if curiosity really did kill the cat.”

Kiriko continued to grumble on the other line. “It’s not my fault your little prince is so soft. Tell me, Black Jack, out of everyone who’s thrown themselves at you, why him?”

The question gave Black Jack pause. Over the last couple of years, he’d wondered why he’d never moved on after that confession in the operating room. He’d tried to pry the emotion out of himself, first packing them away in the album, then trying to give the album back to Kei. Tried to remind himself that the woman he’d fallen in love with was dead. 

But Kei wasn’t dead, and never expected anything from him. Didn’t expect him to keep loving him, didn’t expect him to understand, didn’t expect the great Black Jack to even have an interest, nor did he expect this to be other than a moment between two lonely men. Yet, the longer it went on, Black Jack realized that he wanted to. He wanted to keep going, to see how deep this went, to let himself become vulnerable in this way. 

It was frightening.

It was exciting.

He was starting to realize he couldn't stand it to end.

And he’d be damned if Kiriko got to know that. “Human beings are irrational things. Surely even you realize that.”

The frustration oozing from the other end of the line was glorious. “You’ve always been such a damned fool, you know that, right?”

“I think you tell me every time we cross paths.”

“Anyways, there was another reason I called. I’ve got a little Sendai dog, nipping at my heels. Either they’re bad at their job, or they’re frighteningly good, as they’ve got me calling you. Has there been any unusual activity around you?”

“Tenma called me earlier and left a message. Seems to think I’ve got the clues to restart his research. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

A snort came from the elder doctor. “Hardly. The man is highly delusional. Brilliant, probably, but his paranoia has already killed once. If you think you’ve got a cure, I’d get on it quick.”

“Not that easy. I’m going to hit my limit in a few hours, and it’s going to take time getting enough plasma and the equipment in assembled. It won’t be for another three days. Kisaragi’s worried the Americans might be knocking at any moment.”

“As loathe as I am to agree with him, I worry about that, too. But you’ve had no other contact other than a call from Tenma? Strange… but let’s not be overconfident. I’ll keep seeing my clients… oh, yes, and there’s nothing you can do about _ that _ … and I’ll be there to darken your doorstep in three days.” 

On the other side of the line, Kiriko smiled as he hung up the burner phone. That grin cooled as he watched the shadow of his pursuer slip behind him, moving slowly closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very tempted to spend a lot more time writing Black Jack working out, but then I'd have to raise the rating even more. 
> 
> I'm trying to make sure these chapters aren't all just emotional angst, hopefully this is ok? We're moving towards the 9th hour of the story, and the pressure is building. Who's following Kiriko? Will this cure work? What does Tenma want to do with Black Jack? Is Kei ever going to get a break?
> 
> Again, comments help me so, so much. I constantly worry that I'm writing terribly, and my inner critic thinks this is trash. I know it's a rarepair, and a multi-chapter medically inaccurate mess.


	8. A Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei and Black Jack keep talking about what's changed, and what happens next. Kiriko refuses to let a tail ruin his fun. Pinoko just wishes someone would listen to her.

“Three days? Do you really think we have that long?” Kei tried not to wring the towel in his hands. 

“It has to be. You were right, we don’t want anyone getting wind I’m unable to move under my own power, and the more we can keep the illusion, the better. This will also make sure that the OR has what we need when we show up; unfortunately, this equipment isn’t exactly standard, even in some of the better hospitals. There’s also the problem that they don’t know why I’ve asked for all this; if given the opportunity, they might start asking questions we don’t want to give answers for. Usually I can keep things quiet because they know who I am, but…”

“...They might not listen to me, yeah.” Kei had suspected this was a worry. It made sense; everyone knew Black Jack by reputation at least. Nobody knew who Kei Kisaragi was, and that was partially his own doing, trying to forget his past and start anew. Sure, he had connections among researchers and shipping corporations, but the insular japanese medical association had swept him under the rug as soon as they could. “Still, I admit I’m worried of what might happen between now and then.”

Black Jack noted the slump of the smaller man’s shoulders. “Paranoia doesn’t suit you. Really, what’s gotten into you? You weren’t like this yesterday, even after Kiriko showed up.”

“Because it wasn’t yesterday for the rest of us. It was three days ago.” The towel in Kei’s hands fell onto the back of a chair as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “For you, it’s been, what, six or seven days? Meanwhile, for the rest of us, it’s been almost a month. I haven’t been off a ship this long in close to seven years.” 

Unable to look up, he instead looked at his hands in his lap, noting that even the callouses from the holding of ship lines were fading, ever so slightly at this point. “I like being a ship’s doctor. I felt useful, out there, looking after clients and sailors, even mentoring a few of the younger ones who’d needed someone other than a captain barking orders at them. Now, though, I’m feeling like I’m lost at sea.”

“Kei, I keep telling you, you are useful-”

“Yet it took Kiriko coming here to actually find some answers, didn’t it?” Dark brown eyes met russet ones. “Up until that point, I felt like I had a purpose here, helping you and Pinoko get through this. I didn’t really think about what would happen after, because, well, ‘after’ seemed so far away. Call me a fool, but as worried as I was for you… I liked this. Staying with you, looking after you, like you once did with me.”

“But after Kiriko showed up… it started to sink in that this couldn’t last. I had to start thinking about what comes next. Get ready to go back to the way things were. As I said, I like being a ship’s doctor, but...”

“‘But’?”

“I guess it’s a whole lot easier to look forward to something when there’s nothing to compare it to. I keep trying to make myself remember that it’s the way it works best, and not make a big deal out of this, but...” This time, when he looked up, the dark brown eyes glistened with unshed tears, “...it’s not going so well.”

“So you’ve been working yourself up, making yourself miserable, so it’d be easier to leave?”

Kei pushed up his glasses to rub the heel of his palm into his eye, hoping to stop himself from losing all of his dignity tonight. “Guilty as charged.”

Standing up from his desk chair, Black Jack pulled those thin shoulders into him. “Good grief. Did it never really occur to you that I’d want you to stay?”

Wide-eyed, Kei tried to push himself out of the embrace. Not an easy task, as the larger man was much stronger, though he acquiesced to letting go after a moment of struggle. “No, no, it wouldn’t work! I’d just get in the way. Anyways, I don’t expect you to change your life for me… Is something funny?” Despair was turning into frustration as the smiling unlicensed surgeon chuckled instead of answering him.

Scarred arms ignored the feeble resistance Kei gave as they embraced the smaller man again. “Sorry, you just reminded me of something I realized earlier, when I was speaking to Kiriko.”

At the mention of the deadly doctor’s name, the fight left the ship doctor. “O-oh.” It really did seem that the poor young man was developing a neurosis around the one-eyed asshole. He’d need to address that sooner or later, Black Jack mused.

But he continued. “He asked me, why, out of everyone, I chose you. It made me realize, thinking about it, everyone expects something out of me. Cure this, do that, react in a certain way. Everyone seems to have an expectation for me, doctors, women, Pinoko; hell, Kiriko expects me to either save the day or turn out like him at some point, though he won’t admit it. You, though… you don’t seem to expect anything from me. You never have. You didn’t expect me to care, you didn’t expect me to feel one way or the other, you didn’t expect me to be interested in… this, you didn’t even expect me to do you the favor of treating your unwanted suitor, did you?”

“Hazama, that’s not not exactly a ringing endorsement….” Kei’s use of his old name was strange; normally the ship’s doctor was careful to only use his new name, even when just the two of them, simply because Black Jack had asked him to. “Did you ever think that maybe I don’t expect anything from you because I’m used to the let down?”

“Yet you never hold it against anyone, either. You were lead to believe I wasn’t there when you recovered because I didn’t want to be involved. I ended up giving you an album of everything you wanted to forget, and caused you pain, yet you still broke bread with me.”

“Now who’s being the fool? Not expecting things doesn’t mean I have none. I just expect that things will not go my way, that’s all. I’m no bodhisattva-”

“-and I’m not a god of the operating room, Kei. Yes, I realize you do have some expectations, like everything has to go back to what it was, and that it wouldn’t work otherwise. But…. I admit, for some reason, as frightening as this is, I don’t think I want to let it. Let tongues wag. Can’t we at least try?”

“I…” Kei wanted to be the voice of reason, explain why this was folly. “...somebody might find out about what I- what I was…”

“So? What, someone’s going to use it to ruin my reputation? I hate to break it to you, but if anyone’s going to be sullied by the other’s baggage, I think it’s going to be y-”

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off as Kei pulled his mouth down against his own. 

After several moments of using their lips and tongues to affirm what both had been unable to convey with just words, they broke apart, catching their breath. For a moment, Kei enjoyed the feeling of being held against the bare chest of the other man.

Until he got a proper whiff of the larger man and gagged. “Ugh, you smell worse than a hold full of sailors after the bilge broke. Into the shower, now.” He pushed the doctor towards the bathroom, only partially in jest.

“Kei, stop exaggerati- Urk!” The smell hit Black Jack mid-sentence. He really did stink. “Odd, I haven’t been perspiring all that much…”

“Who knows, it could be another symptom- condensed sweat leading to stronger acids when bacteria breaks it down? Stronger bacteria, altered by the protein? Or perhaps the protein aggregate is changing the pH of your sweat… but we can worry about that later,  _ after _ you’ve showered.” 

Putting nimble fingers to use, Kei pushed his stinky charge into the changing room, ignoring Pinoko’s angry order of “NO HWANKY PWANKY!” from the kitchen. Those same fingers quickly unfastened the black slacks before their owner could protest, then shoved them and the underwear under them to the floor with little pomp. Barely giving Black Jack enough time to step out of them, those insistent hands continued to push him into the bathing room proper, then shoved him down onto the shower stool with full force.

It was only when Kisaragi snapped the flexible shower head on and began aiming it at the two toned hair, did his charge remember he could speak. “Kei, Kei! I can bathe myself! Knock it off!”

“And give you a chance to dawdle? Hardly. You’re right, I’ve been letting myself get pushed around a lot recently. So I’m reasserting my authority, starting with making sure you are scrubbed completely clean from head to toe.” The ship’s doctor moved with the frightening efficiency of one who’d dealt with surly sailors and entitled clients. 

“I promi-*glug*-ise! You can draw the bath! LET ME HAVE SOME DIGNITY, KEI.” The nimble fingers were leaving no skin unsoaped, with none of the sensuality that normally came with such an intimate touch. 

The smaller man stopped, hand poised above delicate areas, narrowing his eyes as he weighed the trustworthiness of his charge. “...Fine. But I will be inspecting your work, ...later.” He emphasized the last word with a wink and a squeeze of that hand on parts that left little question on how thorough that inspection would be.

No longer stuck in the single minded goal of cleaning the patient, Kei chided himself on not at least stripping off his own shirt, socks and pants; all four cuffs were damped and stuck to his skin uncomfortably. Thankfully, it wasn’t all that bad, and he could probably get them dry before dinner.

That hope was dashed as the shower spray hit his backside with full force, just as he’d leaned over to fill the deep small tub, nearly causing him to slip and fall in. He turned, wondering how the shower had gone so far off course, only to get a second blast to the front. Dark brown hair dripping, and glasses knocked askew, Kei could nevertheless see the shit-eating smirk on Black Jack’s face.

“Ass.” Kei shook himself off, before giving up and shucking off the soaked dress shirt. This time, when the shower spray hit him again, he retaliated by throwing the shirt right at that smug two-toned mug. “Man baby.” Pants joined the shirt as a projectile when the shower aimed for him a fourth time. The fifth time, the shower handle was snatched back, the dial turned to ‘glacial’, and revenge was aimed right between the legs. The yipe alone was reward enough. “Just finish up, I need to shove this all in the wash, now.”

“I’ll behave. You could join me, since you’re halfway there, already.” Kei tried his best not to roll his eyes; even with his back turned, he could hear the smirk dripping in that voice.  _ Stupid sexy asshole _ .

“I might as well. You’ve wasted enough water as is.” 

Pinoko would be very miffed that her order was so resolutely ignored.

———————————————

A shadow could tell a lot about who was casting it. For one, it could, from an angle, tell someone the distinguishing characteristics of the person casting it, like if they were clean cut, or curly haired; what their profile looked like; and most importantly, for the deadly unlicensed doctor of death, how far away they were from the booth he was currently occupying. 

Slipping a few hundred yen to cover the coffee he’d ordered and half finished, Kiriko grabbed his suitcase and slipped to the other side of the aisle. Not wasting time to see if his tail had noticed his abrupt exit, the dark doctor slipped down the corridor that held the restrooms - and, more importantly, the fire exit. With a bit of wire and tape, he silenced the buzzer for the door as he pushed it open into the back alley. 

He needed to get to his motorcycle quickly, lest this annoyance tried to keep him from another client. Almost as bad as Black Jack, disrupting his plans like this. He needed to put some distance between them, and as cruel as he was, he wasn’t going to just lead nuisance to either his terminally ill patient, or the slumbering doctor.

A single pale eye narrowed. Come to think of it, how had this pursuer managed to catch up to him so quickly? He’d gotten rid of the rigged explosive…Which was probably there to distract him from finding the actual homing device. Damn it all, he was a fool, falling for such a simple distraction. 

Cutting through back alleys, he slipped up the backstairs of the parking garage, keeping a careful eye on all entrances and exits. Gloved hands inspected each part of the Honda, looking for anything out of place. Sure enough, there was a tiny transmitter on the opposite side of where the remote controlled bomb had been. 

He considered destroying it, right then and there. However, if he did that, and if this tail had to do with the other dark doctor’s mess, there was little doubt they would change targets to the one who was currently holed up in that little house on the cliff. The drive was at least eight hours from here, and if he was a betting man, he’d lay money that Black Jack’s three day sleep would have started by then. He’d be vulnerable to anyone who’d want the only human unintentional test subject of Tenma’s research. He doubted that Kisaragi would be of any use; the doctor was much too delicate to deal with such a threat. No, Kiriko mused, he’d need to find a new wild goose for them to trace.

Carefully, he slid the tracking device to a small piece of scrap metal; these things often would reset if they lose their magnetic hold on the target, and he didn’t want to alert whoever was on the other end that he’d found it. He’d need to find a suitable mark to fool the tracker; a car that would preferably pull them wildly off course. 

Starting his motorcycle, he’d nearly left Sendai before an opportunity presented itself in the form of a large tour bus emblazoned with multiple flags and vaguely insulting rendering of Mount Fuji, idling at the light in front of him. The scrolling LED lights on the sign up top noted it ran from Tokyo to Hokkaido, with stops along the way. Perfect. He pulled up close, and slid the device from the scrap to an exhaust slot. With luck, it’d be halfway to Mombetsu before anyone noticed the switch.

At the next rest stop in Niigata, he sent a quick SMS message to one of the numbers associated with Black Jack. The man may be annoyingly old fashioned when it comes to personal technology, but his little brat was not so frugal.  _ Lost my tail: it looked like the lab rat. May seek the cheese if it notices. Be seeing you soon. Mozart.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for no update last week. The last week was not easy on me. Hopefully, I'll get the next chapter out soon. 
> 
> Thanks, everyone, for the constructive criticism, which helped fuel some of the conversation of this chapter. I'm trying not to make it all doom and gloom, after all; Tezuka snuck in humor in some of the most dramatic stories, too. Please keep commenting; they make my day so much, and give me a ton of motivation to power through when I get stuck. 
> 
> I think I screwed up the proper order of bathing in traditional Japanese homes. I know Black Jack and Pinoko often used public baths for story purposes, but I like to think that someone eventually put their foot down and had a bath installed, at least for 'patients'.


	9. The Book of Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slumber descends once again, and Kei learns a truth, while the Ham appears a little too late.

_ Lost my tail: it looked like the lab rat. May seek the cheese if it notices. Be seeing you soon. Mozart.  _

Pinoko grumbled as she read her pink phone’s screen. She didn’t understand anything in the message, which meant it was someone trying to use her to reach the doctor. Why couldn’t they ever want to talk to her? She was interesting! It wasn’t fair that nobody wanted to hear what she wanted to say. This better not be a lady trying to steal him away from her. She was the wife, and even if she’d reluctantly allowed Dr. Kisaragi to hang around, anyone else would have to answer to her wrath.

“Dwoctor, you need a chellpwone aweddy!” Ignoring the fact her guardian was in the midst of eating, she shoved the phone in his two-toned face, nearly clubbing him with the large collection of charms attached to it. Technically, the doctor did have a cellphone, but it spent 99% of the time off and shoved in his desk drawer. It only ended up in use when Pinoko snuck it into his coat pocket when he tried to sneak off without her. 

“Hm?” Kei looked up from Black Jack’s medical chart in his hand at the little redhead. He’d been marking down the latest changes (a gain of another four kilos, the strange ripples and the bizarre discovery that his left pinky was now double jointed), after making an extra large portion of curry ramen. He was starting to consider swearing off curry forever if this kept up. How much curry could one man eat?

“How does Kiriko know your number?” Just the mention of the one-eyed doctor’s name sent shivers up Kei’s spine. Ugh. If he could, he’d swear off ever hearing that man’s name forever, too.

“At leash he knows how to ushe a chellpwone! Wuddishe!”

“There’s a difference between knowing how to use one and choosing to be tied to one, Pinoko.” Her guardian ignored the face she made in response to that. “If you’d like, I could demonstrate a tech-savvy skill for you, like say, enabling the screen limiting application in the child settings so you only have an hour of screen time a day…”

“ARGH! NOOO!” Tiny hands grabbed futility for the hot pink device that was held just out of reach. When he finally relented, she clutched it to her chest and stuck her tongue out at him. “Mweanie!”

Kei bit his lip, trying not to laugh at the nonsense before him. The laugh died before it could escape, however, when he noticed the telltale tremor in other man’s hand. “Pinoko, can you get the clinic bed ready?” The shaking was one of the indicators that Black Jack was nearing the end of his time awake. Adjusting his glasses, Kei looked back at the time he’d noted before.  _ He woke up around ten this morning, and it’s five pm now, so he’s been awake almost eight hours. Nearly two hours less than last time. _ He kicked himself for not trying harder to get Black Jack to take it easy while awake. Sure, it would have been futile, but he still regretted not putting his foot down more.

The other man sighed with resignation as he finished his bowl, then stood with considerable effort. He was fading fast, and even leaning on the slighter man’s proffered shoulder, the distance to the clinic seemed impossible to traverse. “Should have kept a closer eye on the time.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Kei struggled to keep them both upright as the broader man became more and more of a dead weight against him. He wasn’t that much of a weakling, but still, he let out a breath of relief when they reached the awaiting clinic bed.

“I didn’t mean… nevermind.” Scarred fingers kept slipping as he tried to unhook the dress shirt buttons. He did manage to stay upright long enough for Kisaragi to pull off the black slacks, but only barely. The gown had to be shifted onto him in the sitting position. One by one, monitors were slipped on his chest with care, and two more at his temples, just in case. He managed to pull Kei down to him with the last of his strength for one more soft kiss.

“Kei… promise me, if anything happens, take Pinoko and get the hell out of here… ok?” It was barely a whisper, but it was clear from the way the smaller man’s head drew back that he’d heard him all the same. “Promise.”

“Absolutely not. I’ll promise to keep her safe, but I’m not leaving you. Not after you just convinced me to stay.” Gently, Kei kissed the other man again, on the spot of the brow where the graft met his original skin. “Sorry.”

“Hmph.” Eyelids closed, and breathing already began to slow. Within moments, the man was in a deep, unwaking sleep. He didn’t stir, even as covers were pulled up around him, mindful of the electrodes wires and monitors.

“Sleep well; here’s hoping this is the last of these spells.” Thin, nimble fingers brushed the white and black hair out of the way. In the moment, Kei was struck by the unlicensed surgeon’s little vanities; even without surgery, it would be so easy for him to hide these features that made him stand out from normal japanese society. So loudly he complained about how impossible it was to be part of ‘normal’ life because of it, but still refused to change, unbowing to pressure or the desire of human companionship. Yet another reason why he was so admired.

“Ish he asweep yet, Kei?” Pinoko peeked around the door of the patient room, wary she might be interrupting some procedure.

“Mhm.” Kisaragi stood, allowing himself one last lingering touch before standing. It was only then that he realized he hadn’t seen what had been on the little girl’s phone, earlier. It had to be important; something had spooked Black Jack into asking them to run if someone appeared. 

“Pinoko, what was on your phone?” 

The hot pink phone was reluctantly proffered to him. “Ish not fwair! Nobody writshe poor Pinoko! Inshtead ish all for the Doctor!”

“It is rather silly he never uses his own... Well, we’ll just have to work on that.” Scrolling through the message, Kei grimaced.  _ Mozart? Really? _ “Though, if we can make sure Kiriko never gets the number, I’d be very, very happy.”

“He’sh not wery nice… but, shometimes he’sh helpsful….” The little girl’s face suddenly turned as red as her hair, as if she realized she’d said something she shouldn’t have. Not surprising, as Kei hadn’t been able to hide the droop of his shoulders at that comment. “But.. but… he’s sholishpshtic!”

“Do you mean ‘solipsistic’?”  _ Black Jack, what are you trying to do to this poor girl? _

“Thas what I shed! Sholishpshtic! Hesh gotsh an shelf centshered view of the world! The Doctor shaid sho, a while back. Sho unlike Kisawagi!”

“Hmm? When did he say this?” Handing the phone back to the little girl, Kei scanned over the medical chart, trying to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, but the curiosity of what the surgeon might have told the little girl was too great.

“After he lefsht last time. He shaid Kiwiko only helped when he wansht to, being sholishpshtic, while you help evewybody, even when itsh means you give up parshts of youwshelf. I told Doctor was bewing shilly, you have all yowr fwingers and toes, but he jusht laughed. Nobody tells Pinoko anyshing!”

Thin fingers stroked through the red bob, calming the girl while he processed what she said. He opened his mouth to speak…

...but shut it when he heard the unmistakable sound of a branch breaking outside the window.

“Pinoko, I want you to stay here and keep hidden. Don’t open the door for anyone, unless I say so, ok?” The little girl went to protest, but nodded when she saw the worry on the young doctor’s face. 

He stood, trying to remember where all the loose floorboards were as he moved as quietly as he could to the living room. There was definitely someone moving around the house; stalking from window to window, trying to discern if anyone was home. Probably not Kiriko; the man moved like a hurricane when he wanted to. So who could it be? Doctor Tenma, hoping to take his loose end out? Spies from the US army, hoping for a living test subject? Or someone else entirely, looking to use the doctor’s illness to settle the score?

Silently, Kei grabbed a knife from the kitchen, knowing in his heart how little it would do against an armed intruder. Sure, some of the mariner boys had taken it upon themselves to teach their beloved doctor how to brawl, but he knew that in most fights, unless he had the element of surprise in a close quarters, he was sunk. If they had a gun… he didn’t have a chance. He’d never been able to toss a scalpel like Black Jack did.

The grip on the carving knife nearly slipped when a sharp rap came from the front door. Should he answer it, or pretend that no one was home? No, no doubt whoever it was had seen the lights on throughout the house. Glancing between the knife and the door, he sighed and grabbed the doorknob with one hand, hiding the knife behind his back with the other.  _ Please don’t be asking for emergency miracle surgery, please don’t be asking for emergency miracle surgery.... _

Whoever Kei had expected on the other side of the door, the sniveling, curly haired, large nosed, mustachioed…  _ weasley _ man was definitely not what he expected. The man still had his fist raised to knock again, but after a moment of staring at Dr. Kisaragi in shock, he noticed the fist and hid it behind his back, sleazy smile growing wide to cover being caught. “Hiya! I was looking for Black Jack!” It wasn’t a question.

Dr. Kisaragi kept his face neutral, even as the slimeball of a man stuck his foot in the crack of the door, keeping it open. The visitor didn’t seem to be a patient, and while he definitely made Kei shiver of disgust with his mannerisms, he didn’t hold himself like the yakuza or gang members that the ship’s doctor had dealt with in ports around the world. “I’m sorry, and you are?”

“Ah, sorry, sorry, my apologies! Mr. Hammond Tamago, information acquisition services. Worked with the surgeon in the past. Heard a rumor he was ill, then heard he wasn’t really sick, and then I heard there was another face hanging about these parts…” He waggled those pencil thin eyebrows, and Kei instinctually gripped the knife behind his back tighter. “...But that’s not why I’m here. A mutual acquaintance had asked me to drop off some files off for the good doctor that he thought might be helpful for some case they’re both working on. Top secret and all that, so I couldn’t just drop it in the mail.”

Kei realized he was too tired to deal with this man’s passive aggressive fishing scheme. “In short, you wanted to spy on Black Jack if he was around, and Kiriko gave you some busy work to needle us, so you’re cutting two patients with one scalpel.”

Tamago blinked, obviously not expecting his plan to be so plainly unveiled. A predatory smirk replaced the formerly fake smile. “Huh. No wonder Kiriko thought you might be Black Jack’s student. You’re nearly as blunt as he is. Not quite as sharp, but I’m sure you offer other eh,  _ skills _ that make up for your deficits.”

Dr. Kisaragi didn’t move an inch at the jab, but internally, a  _ lot _ of pieces were falling into place. No doubt that one eyed son of a bilgepipe had decided he needed dirt on someone he saw as an interloper in Black Jack’s life. No doubt paid a pretty penny to unseal some of those records, which brought little cheer to Kei’s rapidly sinking heart. How many people now knew the truth about him and his past with the unlicensed surgeon? Would it become yet another attempt to blackmail the man into taking dangerous clients, when he was barely able to keep himself in one piece right now? As new terrible nightmare scenarios blossomed in his thoughts, a string of curses ran through the ship doctor’s head, colorful enough to make even his former crewmates blush. 

On the outside, however, Dr. Kisaragi put on that disarming smile that had stopped plenty of unruly patients in their tracks on the high seas. “I’m sorry? I don’t follow. I’m just looking after a patient here, one that Black Jack knows so well, so I’m consulting with him on the patient’s critical care. Black Jack is dealing with it right now.” Inspiration hit Kei and he kept running with it. “Would you like to come and wait? I know Black Jack doesn’t like to be disturbed, but if this information is so important, I’m sure Dr. Kiriko wouldn’t want you dropping it off with another doctor. We know how much Black Jack values patient confidentiality ...”

There was a flicker of worry on those hammy features with a bit of sweat building on the temples as the snitch looked at the files under his arm. “W-well, Dr. Kiriko didn’t really say who to drop them off with, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

Dr. Kisaragi pushed on, keeping the sweet, naive tone believable. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m sure Black Jack would want to know every detail about those files, and as you said, I’m not quite as sharp as he is…”

Something about having to explain himself to short tempered unlicensed surgeon seemed not to appeal to weaselly man. As if by divine providence, there was the shuffling of feet and surgical equipment from behind the clinic door right then. Hammond shoved the files at Doctor Kisaragi, his previous bravado running like a rat. “No, no, no, I’m sure it’s fine! I’ll just be on my way, no need to even mention my name to Black Jack. I’m sure he’ll know who sent it.” Somehow, Kei felt that was the last thing Mr. Tamago wanted, as the man jumped back into the little sedan parked a ways down the hill and roared into the evening.

By the time he put the files down and the knife away, Pinoko had emerged from behind the clinic door. “Did I do good, Kisawagi?”

The smile Kei gave the little girl was genuine. “Perfectly. How about some hot chocolate?”

\-----------------------

When the house phone rang later, Kei didn’t bother putting down the file he was engrossed in. “Did the doctor get my earlier message? I sadly had to ditch the phone shortly after, if I was going to keep that rat off my tail.”

“Hello, _Mozart_. He did. He retired shortly afterwards, so he missed your additional information delivered later on. It’s too bad, it really is a fascinating read; did you know the hospital had three staff fatalities in the last six months before the accident, and had phone service problems recently?”

There was a muffled curse on the other end of the line. “Ah, those files, I asked them to be delivered before I last spoke to you. Look-”

Kei flipped the page. “How much did it cost?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “What?” 

“How much did the information cost? The total amount, and say, just my file?”

Another pause, as it sounded like Kiriko was digging through a stack of papers. “120 thousand.”

Flipping the next page, Kei leaned back in the easy chair. “And my file?”

The tortured sigh was enough to make a person giddy. “40 thousand.”

“You will, of course, be deducting that from your expenses, correct?”

There was a definite growl of annoyance on the other end. “Fine, fine, but I do expect to be paid for the work I’ve been doing, after all if not for me-”

“Yes, well it’s silly for Black Jack to pay for what he already knows. I’ll cover the 40 thousand.”

“You… what?”

“I do have a decent amount of pay stashed away. Not a lot to spend it on until recently. Did you know Doctor Redosu had ordered the entire stock of lab mice terminated?”

“I… how do you know that?” Kiriko’s annoyance was palatable through the phone.

“Hospital records are a lot like ship manifests. Motives are easy to hide, but supplies are less so. Redosu ordered a large amount of the carbon dioxide made up the week before the date of the explosion. Additionally, there’s a note here from the day of the operation and explosion. Four vials were made up, one from the lab where the explosion took place, and three were saline solutions… good gods.” Kei dropped the file in his lap in shock.   
“What? What is it?” The annoyance at the other end of the line had vanished, replaced with unabashed curiosity. 

“The saline was ordered to go to Tenma; Doctor Redosu was to get the only vial made from the lab.”

“Then… how did Black Jack…”

Kei pinched his nose, trying to ward off the headache he knew was coming. “Someone injected him on purpose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Black Jack day... 5 day late, whoops. 
> 
> So yeah, I promise, I'm trying not to pull an M. Night Shyamalan here, this was just an attempt(tm) to show Kei may not be a Dark Doctor, but he can use those skills he has honed to get towards the truth. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Black Jack is off dreaming, wondering why he keeps hearing surgical equipment rattling in the distance.
> 
> Thank you again for everyone who has commented so far. I'm so terribly insecure, and my job has not been easy the last two weeks, so every notification, good, bad or constructive criticism has been such a welcome respite. I hope this has been worth the wait.


	10. The Curse of Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly, the pieces come together on how Black Jack ended up the Sleeping Beauty of this tale, as Kei tries to prepare for their make or break moment. Meanwhile, Doctor Kiriko circles back in again, leaving bodies in his wake and his tail dangling in the wind... he hopes. Will they succeed?

The files were spread throughout the living room, painting an ugly picture by the numbers, as far as Kei could tell. The Redosu and Tenma project had eaten a lot of the hospital’s budget in the last year, with few results to show for it. Several additional researchers had been brought on, probably for oversight. In less than six months, two of them had met unfortunate accidents that on their own would be tragic, but together showed a worrying pattern. One was an apparrent suicide; another died of ‘natural causes’ in his apartment after going drinking the night before. A few internet searches had brought up an article on the deaths; the second one had several doctors speaking out about the high expectations put on researchers at the hospital, as well as rumors of their ties with the US military complex. 

But that was the strange part of it; if anything, it seemed that backdoor deal, labelled as faked grant in the funding, was still going strong up until the week before the scheduled demonstration, even with the deaths and lack of results. Then that week, the ‘grant’ disappeared, and an emergency allocation was put in for 20 million yen. Asked by Doctor Tenma, personally no less, that was conditionally approved by the hospital bursar… who died the next day in a hit and run. That death had made the local paper, too, but it lacked any of the subtlety of the other two deaths; it seemed to be a rather sloppy, traceable crime… or would have been, if not for the explosion.

There was little doubt the 20 million yen was Black Jack’s fee, but the why of the matter still eluded Kisaragi. Doctor Tenma had insisted that Redosu had asked to hire Black Jack to show the effectiveness of their research when he’d spoken to Kiriko, but how much of that was the delusion of a madman? After all, all signs pointed to Doctor Redosu trying to end the project: the carbon dioxide order for destruction of the lab mice; a call to convene the hospital board (and several members of the US military) on Dr. Tenma’s recent behaviors; the switching of dummy vials and the actual treatment for the demonstration; and his comments to Black Jack on the day of the operation. So why hire Black Jack at all?

More importantly, why had Doctor Redosu decided to inject Black Jack with the treatment, instead of patient X? 

Because there was little question that he’d been the only one able to properly inject the unlicensed surgeon during the whirlwind of the operation preparation. Digging into the man’s background, Kei realized that Doctor Redosu would have intimate knowledge of Black Jack; the man had been a friend of Jotaro Honma, and a nerve specialist working with him at the time of certain bomb accident twenty some years ago. If anyone was going to know about the fact that Kuro’o Hazama had areas of minimal nerve response, Doctor Redosu was a prime candidate. Pairing that with the vial switch, all signs pointed to Doctor Redosu as the man who’d injected Black Jack at some point during the hospital visit. But again, why?

Kei flipped through the file of the mysterious ‘patient X’ that was supposed to get the treatment. A sixteen year old boy who’d been in a coma for the last year, following a suicide attempt with a hunting rifle, a rarity in Japan. Brain scans had shown seventy percent brain tissue death, between the buckshot and the subsequent cranial hemorrhaging. While there was no ‘official’ name attached to the patient, there were several notes, no doubt that hamegg character’s dirt digging, that listed the boy as Tenma’s only child. The mother had died when the child, Tobio, was only six, leaving the child often by himself, as Tenma became more and more consumed by his work.

Something about all this made Kei shudder. Tenma had been desperate to bring his son back by making him part of the experiment, but surely even he had to realize that even if the experiment had been a success, there was no chance that the child would be anything other than a shell, having none of the memories or personality that made him his son. Or… had Tenma been hoping for that, given that the man seemed to have gone out of his way not to interact with Tobio before, by all accounts. There were stories he’d heard, in different ports, of parents who would pay quacks to turn their children into completely new people. Had that been Tenma’s goal, no wonder Doctor Redosu tried to put a stop to it.

That still didn’t explain Black Jack’s role in this. Why bring him in at all, unless… maybe… Redosu had suggested to Tenma, if he was so desperate to show results, to have the most brilliant surgeon there to confirm it, or hell, even fake results, assuming that Tenma would never get approval for such an exorbitant price? But when Tenma did… Redosu would have to make sure Tenma didn’t revive the project, and switched the vials.

That just left why Redosu had injected Black Jack. Why subject a healthy man to this terrible treatment? Redosu had to have known the side effects would have eventually made it harder and harder for the surgeon to function, and he’d try to find out what was happening…

_ Redosu had hoped that Black Jack would figure out a cure. _

How many times had someone gotten the unlicensed surgeon to work for free by putting him at risk from the very illness they’d found? There’d been the parasite in Australia… the shrinking disease in the bushlands… and the infamous Black Jack Disease as well. If one couldn’t afford the million yen fees, well, forcing the man to cure himself was the next best thing. If Redosu even suspected that Tenma was behind the other deaths, he knew that his only hope for stopping the unhinged researcher from unleashing this into military hands was to have someone like Black Jack to discover a cure and stop it.

Kei suddenly remembered what Black Jack had said Redosu had told him. ‘Cleaning out the cobwebs’... the protein aggregate could be described as sticky cobwebs… Goddamnit. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced the dead man had made a point to try and suggest a means that might work at reversing the treatment, knowing his days were numbered.

Torn between praying for the late doctor’s soul and cursing it, Kei pulled the files back together, circling and highlighting the evidence he’d found. Tomorrow was the start of the final push of preparations to finally put this all to rest. He’d need his wits about him.

\--------------

The soft muffled sounds of Vivaldi spilled out into the bedroom, caressing the bouquets of flowers crowding every available surface. The heart monitor registered a fading heart beat, the waves coming slower and slower, the distance between them widening. The patient’s chest rose once more before, finally, both it and the monitor stilled forever more. Gently, a hand moved to the lifeless eyes, closing them completely with a silent prayer for peace.

Quietly, Dr. Kiriko removed the diodes and IV needle, before taking the utmost care as he slipped off the headphones. Each item was placed in its compartment, packing it all away into his suitcase, as the witness behind him sobbed gentle tears of relief. There was no more pain and suffering here; just the quiet release of death.

“T-the money’s been wired to your account, sir; I can’t thank you enough…” Kiriko nodded, not really hearing the rest. His mind was to his patient first, thankful that he’d been able to save them from the awful clutches of pain. Late stages of Parkinson’s, where the body was like a lead suit, beyond the control of its owner. Even Black Jack wouldn’t have made a lick of difference.

_ Black Jack. _ It had been 24 hours since he’d last called the other dark doctor’s clinic, and as much as he knew there would be little development since then, he itched to needle that Kisaragi brat some more. Why it brought him such pleasure, he couldn’t quite place, but it soothed a nasty little part of his psyche all the same.

_ Almost as much as it did to needle Black Jack, when he nips at my heels. _ Was that it? So desperate for the man’s attention, he’d go after the hanger on, as some cheap replacement? It wasn’t as if the two men were anything alike; Black Jack was terribly overconfident, always ready to take on the world, screaming; While Kisaragi was practically the opposite, quietly trying to help everyone at the expense of himself, never expecting to succeed. Utter fools, the both of them… though the fact Kiriko had let those two grow on him in his own twisted way was almost as foolish. 

Maybe he could convince the little ship brat he needed to learn the importance of relieving suffering… put him in a situation like he’d done for Black Jack so many times before. If Kisaragi failed to save the patient… or, even better, agreed with the White Doctor of Death; oh, he could see Black Jack crumbling now. That is, of course, if they survived this little adventure of theirs.

The one eyed man pulled into a spot near a local cafe, fishing out his newest burner phone to see if he had anything else lined up before he needed to head back to that little ocean cliff house. There were the standard threatening e-mails from a few fools who thought they could avoid his fees by saying they’d go to the police on him (they never did; after all, he always kept contracts to back up his work, and his government connections were useful in a pinch). Another e-mail was a notification from his bank in London, notifying him that the last client had indeed paid in full.

Another email… hmm. This one was for a client to discuss an end of life treatment, conveniently in the city right by Black Jack, for tomorrow. It would cut it a bit close, but if he worked it just right, he’d be able to see the client and be back in time to see exactly how Black Jack figured he could cure himself. Perhaps even swoop in and save the day, if he was lucky. That would destroy little Kisaragi beyond repair.

There was a tiny pang at that thought.  _ Strange. _ Was it possible he was actually feeling sorry for the twerp? Hardly. Probably just something he ate. 

Money left on the counter, the thin man pulled out the SIM card and placed it in his briefcase, and the phone in his jacket pocket, before he warmed up the engine of the faithful Honda. There was a definite chill in the air. Possibly a storm brewing. 

It really was turning out to be a wonderful day.

\-------------------

_ This definitely could be going better _ , thought Kei, as he checked on his sleeping patient. The line he’d fed in yesterday morning of a proper nutrient drip, in addition the IV drip, seemed to be draining into the stomach too quickly, despite triple checking the line. There were no changes in vitals, so it hadn’t messed things up too badly, at least. However, while there was no bowel or bladder evacuation, the odorous sweat had made a momentary resurgence, to Pinoko’s loud complaints. Kei tutted lightly at the little girl, pointing out that it wasn’t as if her guardian could actually control any of this, and it was up to them to get him clean.

“You bwetter not mwean like you and the Doctor were ‘cweaning’ lasht time….” Pinoko had grumbled, but had gotten the basin and sponges ready anyways.

Kei blushed as he undid the snaps of the gown, laying the patchwork doctor bare. How often did the man stay still before this, allowing Kei a moment to admire him in full? Too often, the unlicensed surgeon was moving at lightning speed; in the OR, through the world, even in the bedroom, it took all of the younger man’s energy just to try and keep up. How ironic it was, then, that it was Black Jack the one acting like Sleeping Beauty, moving so slowly that a week for him was a month for the rest.

A frown formed on the ship doctor’s lips. Here, in the unforgiving light of the clinic, it was plain to see the ravages of this strange disease on Black Jack. Even the most prominent scars, like the sternum mark that ran from collarbone to navel, that Kei had traced countless times when they’d holed up in a port hotel, seemed practically invisible now, only barely visible at the right angles. Even the skin itself seemed paler than it had before, the white lines of his countless grafts and patchworks blending in. Could he be suffering from Vitamin D deficiency? Kisaragi made a note to himself to check and add it to the IV. Muscle definition was in fine shape, if not better than expected, which one would find surprising given how long the man had been in bed recently. Remembering the events of two days ago, however, Kei suspected he should be thankful that the changes he was observing were not more severe. He squeezed a bicep, wondering if they were successful with the treatment reversal, would Black Jack’s body revert back to how it had been, or would they have to continue to monitor him for changes?

“Take a pwicture, it lashts longer!” Pinoko’s shout jolted Kei out of his study.

“Sorry, Pinoko. Lost in my own thoughts.” The heat of his face threatened to fog Kei’s glasses, as he realized the redheaded child had basically walked in on him copping a feel of her guardian. Sheepishly, he accepted the damp sponge from the tiny hands, and began to methodically swab his sleeping patient, taking care to focus on the areas of sweat production. 

“Ish he swupposed to be this twishchy, Kei?” Pinoko poked her wet sponge onto the doctor’s thigh. Sure enough, if one looked closely, one could see muscles flex and unflex under the skin. A look at the monitor showed no change in brain or heart activity, so this wasn’t in response to stimuli, or affecting his pulse. This hadn’t happened during any of the other sleeping periods. 

“It would explain why he’s been perspiring so much today… what’s different about this time?” Kei looked absently around the room, trying to think. His eyes rested on the empty nutrient feeding tube. “Maybe… his body’s trying to make up for the excessive caloric input? To keep it from becoming excess waste, or fatty tissue?”

“But why not fhat? Doctor alwaysh shays if you eatsh too much you get fhat.” Pinoko poked the prone man’s tummy. There was barely any give there, annoying her. She poked harder.

“I’m not sure, but… well, this thing seems to be all about improving the body. Just like when I take blood, it tries to fight back against it, but when I put in an IV, it lets it stay in...hmm.” Already the tremors were subsiding, letting the doctor and his assisting nurse finish their task. “Just to be sure, I think I’ll refrain from putting another line in, anyways.”

Pinoko pouted slightly, wishing her guardian would wake up already. “The operashion’s tomorrow, wight?”

Kei nodded as he gently pulled the thin plastic tube from Black Jack’s nose, then moved the limp body into a new hospital gown. The snaps were getting a little harder to close. “Shortly after he wakes up, hopefully. I really wish he wouldn’t insist on driving, though.” The young man sighed. “What are we going to do with him, Pinoko?”

The little redhead in question shrugged. “No cwue.” Gently, she put a small kiss on two toned forehead before jumping down to put the washcloths in the laundry.

Smiling, Kei waited until the little girl’s back was turned before placing his own kiss on the sleeping man’s lips. 

“A-HEM!” Pinoko glared nastily, and Kei shrugged sheepishly. “Don’t forgesht, I’m da WIFE.”

“What does that make me, then?” long, thin fingers tousled the red hair. 

Pinoko thought for a minute. “Da huwshband.”

Kei blinked. “U-um. Alright, but don’t you think we should let him decide?”

“Naw, he’sh shtupid when it come to love. Leave thasht to Pinoko.”

Kei blinked again, but thought better than to argue with her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALMOST THERE! I am sooooo dishonoring Tezuka's memory, making this so long. Shouldn't this have wrapped up 20 pages ago?
> 
> Again, thank you to everyone who has left comments and kudos and theories. It's helped me keep going, even as I stare at the mountain of grading I'm supposed to be doing. Oops. 
> 
> Sorry the sexy doctor is unconscious for all of this chapter. I'm sure he's horrified that Kei let Pinoko poke at him for so long. Better than the baseball bat, though, right?


	11. Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One by one, the secrets, the lies, the doctors come home to roost.

The Kai-Ten hotel was a large, nondescript hotel less than an hour from the little clinic on the ocean cliff. Not the most lavish hotel in the area, but easy enough to slip in and out of as needed, with few cameras or people loitering about. It was easy enough for Kiriko to park his motorcycle three blocks away, then amble in the side, with no one the wiser. Still, the White Death was discreet, signing in under ‘Mozart’ at the hotel concierge, before making his way up to the pre-arranged room, far enough away from the lobby to note anyone who might be following. 

Room 1983 was at the end of a hall, separate from the other rooms on the floor. The door was ajar slightly, right on time for the dark doctor’s appointment. He had little expectations about ‘treating’ a patient tonight; they always seemed to want to make sure he was genuine, beyond the rumors that followed his work. Understandable, after all. While he hardly charged the outrageous fees of Black Jack, such quality work as his did not come cheaply.

“Hello?” His gloves rapped gently against the door, but there was no response. Cautiously, he pushed into the room, wondering where the client was. The room was dark, the window slightly ajar on the far end, making the curtain flutter in the cool autumn breeze. Someone had obviously been there; the bed was a mess, and a light was on in the bathroom. The white doctor of death stepped further into the room, wondering if perhaps the client simply hadn’t heard him, or needed a moment to respond. Still something felt ...off here, as if the room was set up for an ambush. 

The curtain fluttered again, and pulling his attention forward.

It was enough of a distraction that Kiriko almost missed the shadow move in the reflection of the television. But he didn’t miss the glint of a pistol from the closet.

Running on instinct and years of military training, he dove left.

_ BANG! _

Pain burned into his shoulder, causing him to cry out, but at least the shot had missed the mark of his vitals. The room swam as he hit the floor, and he could feel the warmth of his blood soaking his front. He’d been foolish, not thinking about how this was a boon for an ambush, after all the effort he made to shake his tail almost three days ago. 

The shadow that approached confirmed his worst fears. _ Tenma. _

“I knew your greed would flush you out.” The look on the wiry researcher’s face was harrowing. If anything, the man looked worse than before; his eyes were deeply sunken into his face, partially hidden by the uncombed quaff of hair. Even through the overwhelming scent of his own blood, it was obvious to Kiriko that the doctor hadn’t let personal maintenance get in the way of his pursuit as the man kneeled down to inspect his handiwork. “Now, before I finish you off, tell me, who hired you and Black Jack to sabotage my work? Was it Redosu? WHERE IS HE HIDING?”

The pale head, matted slightly by red blood, shifted at the insanity of what he was hearing. “Y-you’re mad…. You said yourself, Redosu is dead. You… hired me. No one else.” It was true, after all. Black Jack, if given the choice, would have probably preferred that the other dark doctor never had poked his nose in the business at all. 

“YOU LIE! I heard you speaking to another about my work after you left Sendai. How you planned to sabotage my work, just like Redosu had! Steal it for yourselves! Redosu was a crafty bastard; set me up to make my own downfall, hiring a back alley backstabber while he tried to disgrace me. Now I can’t be sure of anything, let alone be sure he didn’t fake his death to slander me and take it all away!” The barrel of the pistol shook, as Tenma voiced raised higher in pitch. “You stole my research and gave it to that unlicensed quack, under Redosu’s orders! My spies told me so!”

A single pale eye blinked at the bizarre statement. The man was lost to madness; but Kiriko needed to humor him as long as that pistol was pointed at his face. “Your... _ spies _ must be mistaken. I only relieve suffering; I would have no interest in your research.” 

However, the mad researcher wasn’t listening to the bleeding man’s pleas. Instead, he stalked to the hotel room’s phone, picking it up and dialing, his back to his victim. Kiriko used the opportunity to push himself against the wall, putting pressure on the gunshot wound. If only he could get to his bag. There was a small, concealed, single shot pistol in there for defense purposes, as well as scalpels and a knife. Anything was better than being helpless as a sitting duck, waiting for his slaughter. But his bag had fallen to the far end, near the door, and any movement right now might make his death sooner than it needed to be.

“Hello? Yes, it’s Tenma. I’m in the process of neutralizing the first rat in our operation, just like you asked. He doesn’t seem to have the data on him, but I suspect his accomplice does, along with whatever Redosu had planned to do with the samples.” He paused, listening intently to the other person on the line. As much Kiriko strained to listen, he couldn’t make out what was being said. “Of course. I’ll deal with him like I’ve done the rest, and then we can start right back up again. Tobio will be only the first.”

Confusion and dread crept up Kiriko’s spine, even as shock and pain made him numb to everything else. Tobio? As in the young man he’d delivered from pain a little over a month ago? Or was he meaning someone else?

“Really, must it all resort to this? I made this to save them, not to destroy.” Placing the phone back in the cradle, the unkempt man pulled at his wild mop of hair, apparently lost in thought. Perhaps… perhaps even he was having second thoughts on what he was being ordered to do.

“What have they promised you, to make you turn to such violence, Tenma?” The plaintive sound of his own voice surprised the hardened veteran. “Did they promise to bring back your son?”

Eyes of a broken man met a single desperate one. “...Yes. They promised to bring them all back. Everyone who tried to get in the way of this sacred work.”

Such desperation would drive any man to chase lead, no matter how outlandish or impossible. The former army veteran had seen it so many times before, in the muck and pain of a losing battle. “They’ve used you, Tenma. They’re trying to make you do their dirty work for them. You could end this, and we could expose them for the true killers they are. You don’t have to do this-”

“They told me a snake like you would try and dissuade me.” The bullet hit his leg with a sickening CRACK. Kiriko wanted to scream as pain erupted through his body, and was only half successful in holding it back. “After I’m done with you, I’m going to deal with your patchwork counterpart, and take back what’s mine.” The hammer of the pistol pulled back, and for a brief moment, a single pale eye flashed back to the frontlines, where he’d heard the call of those begging for death. Was it his turn?

Briefly, he thought of his sister, and hoped in his passing, she would find peace. 

But the third bullet never came. Clamor could be heard from the hallway; voices growing louder as Kiriko made out the words, “It sounded like it came from over here!”

Tenma seemed to hear it too. The third shot went wild, missing its target by two feet to embed in the closet wall, but he didn’t even bother to look. Frantic, the researcher grabbed his satchel and ran for the door, one last shot aimed wildly at the prone man’s position, but sank into the carpet instead.

The cacophony of voices in the hallway grew louder, with shouts of “Sir, SIR!” and “Is that a-” before they tapered off, seemingly following the man escaping. There may have been the sound of another shot, but it was muffled, and Kiriko was more worried about his own blood, seeping through his jacket. Waiting for a moment to make sure no one was coming to check out the room, he hissed as he crawled back to his bag, looking for the tools within.

Kiriko was able to pull the bandage tight with his left hand and teeth. The shot to the leg had merely been a graze, but the one in his right arm was deep, likely fracturing the bone. How the other doctor could make sewing himself up in times like this routine was beyond him; he’d barely managed to fish the bullet out with forceps and sew the vein shut before momentarily passing out. He’d need to visit a smaller back alley operation shortly, if he could hobble himself out of here. He briefly considered forcing that little pipsqueak Kisaragi into fixing him up, but the practicality of this situation was too dire. 

No way he could get to Black Jack’s clinic without that madman following… or worse, before he got there, if the euthanasia specialist guessed where Tenma was headed next. Still, he had to warn them… He dragged himself to the phone, cradling the still warm reciever on his shoulder. 

He was halfway through dialing the number when he realized there was no dial tone. Pulling it back in confusion, he looked to the receiver, then the phone itself, wondering how Tenma could have damaged it while he’d watched him. Only after a moment of examination, did he find the cord dangling on the floor, frayed where a rodent had attempted to chew through it.

A terrible realization flooded Kiriko as he scrambled for the burner phone deep in his bag. 

* * *

“Wh- Kiriko? Can you slow down? There’s a lot of static and you’re fading in and out.” Kei rolled his eyes as he kept the phone cradled against his neck. He’d been finishing up the copies of the paperwork and charts to make sure they were ready to go as soon as Black Jack awoke in a couple of hours. In the background, Pinoko rushed through the house, packing everything she thought that they might need for their ‘trip’; clothes, games, books, stuffed animals, the coffee maker, and anything else in her reach. Twice now, Kei had gently reminded her that they hoped it would only be a day or two at the most, but the girl moved on, undeterred. 

“I’ve ...een shot, so I’m havin… ouble moving, idio…”

Kei blinked. “No need to be rude... Did you just say you were shot?!”

“...es! I’m on my wa.. ...itched up. But that’s not importan…. Tenma was the o… he’s ..oming, you have to ..et out, he’s in…” Whatever else the rogue doctor said was cut off, leaving Kisaragi listening to a dial tone.

“Kiriko? Kiriko! Oh, for fuck’s sake, what was the man trying to say?” He wanted to brush off the call as yet another attempt to drive him off, to leave Black Jack at the deadly doctor’s mercy, but a niggling in his gut worried him otherwise. What was the man trying to say? Something about Tenma… and being shot. 

Putting those worries on the back burner, the young doctor put the files in the waiting briefcase, and checked his overnight bag for the fourth time. “Pinoko, please put the coffee maker back, along with the hot cocoa mix. We’ll be back before you know it, and I don’t want to waste time when we’re ready to go.”

“Aw, but whasht if the hospitwal doesn’sht have cocoa and the dowctor screws up? We’ll be shwuck dere and there won’t be any schweets. Ish not faaaaaair.” The girl’s whine rang loudly through the house. She paused after a moment, distracted by something. “Shomeone’s at the door! I’ll get it!”

Someone at the door? At this time of day? Kisaragi frowned, files forgotten as he went to investigate who it possibly could be. Surely not a client… had Kiriko slunk back to the clinic already, as he threatened he would? Strange, too, that he couldn’t hear Pinoko greeting the visitor, either.

“Pinoko, was there someone…” His question died in his throat as he turned the corner of the clinic into the living room. A harried, disheveled man, thin and gaunt and cruel looking, stood in the doorframe. Hair wild from more than just the wind, the man seemed oblivious to Kei’s arrival. 

“Where is he?” When the visitor spoke, something about the voice seemed familiar to the ship’s doctor, but where he’d heard it before, he couldn’t place. The man looked like he’d spent the last few days outdoors, or at least, nowhere near a proper bed or shower; his hair, mostly black with grey setting in, curled in a haphazard mess in front, and his beard was in desperate need for a trim. He didn’t look like one of Black Jack’s clients; those who still tried to call on the doctor usually thought their money trumped ‘closed’ signs.

A squeeze of his pant leg let Kei know where Pinoko had taken shelter from the intruder. “T-the dowctor’s not here! Go away!” Without looking down, the young doctor could hear the quiver in the little girl’s voice. 

“Don’t lie to me. I saw the car outside. Where is the coward hiding? I have… things to discuss with him. He has some of my research I need.”

Kisaragi held up his hands, cursing not for the first time at his smaller stature. “Sir, the clinic is closed. Black Jack is unavailable, if you will just leave your card, I’ll make sure he calls you as soon as he’s available.”

“No! There’s no time! Where is he?” The intruder tried to push past into the clinic, but Kisaragi stood firm. “He has what’s mine, and I want it back!”

Blinking in surprise, Kei suddenly had a name for the familiar voice. “Tenma… You’re Doctor Tenma. Why are you here?”

Tenma stopped pushing against the smaller man, finally seeing him as more than a blockade. “Who are you? Are you working with Black Jack, too?”

“Too?” A frown formed on Kei’s lips. _ Who else did he think worked with… oh no…. _

“Don’t play innocent. If Black Jack blabbed about me, you probably know his other accomplices hiding about. I already took care of him.” A chill ran up Kei’s spine as the man, sneering, pulled out a pistol from behind his back. “And if need be, I’ll take care of you, too. Now,” he waved the gun to have Kisaragi and the terrified Pinoko over to the sofa, “where is that unlicensed quack hiding?”

If this had been one of Pinoko’s anime shows, Black Jack would have come crashing through the clinic door with an IV pole at that point. But this was reality, and the ship’s doctor knew no one was coming to the rescue here. He’d have to make do on his own. “I told you, he’s not available. The car is always left here. Please,” Kei pleaded, “can’t I just let him call you? There’s a child here, who’s terribly frightened. Let’s be adults about this.” 

The gun barrel waivered a bit when Tenma looked at Pinoko, who, to her credit, acted like their lives depended on convincing the gunman how terrified she was. She looked up from where she was pressed against Kisaragi’s side to give the former father the biggest tearful eyes, lips quivering. “Pwease, mishter! I wanna be shafe! I don’t wanna dieeeeeee!” The wail seemed loud enough to break glass.

“Tobio… he didn’t want to die… I knew he didn’t. It was an accident. He didn’t mean to leave me…” Sobs racked the tortured man’s frame, the gun aimed away as he clung to himself.

Kei looked to the little redheaded girl and nodded, before pushing her off to the back of the house. Her room had been fortified with all manners of failsafes to keep the only child of the unlicensed surgeon safe, no matter who came knocking. Daring to watch her go for only a moment, the young doctor turned back to the broken man in front of him. “Sir… I’m sorry for your loss. Tobio seemed to mean a lot to you.”

Tenma sobbed violently, “He was my everything! My pride! My legacy! Everything I did, was for him! Yet he ripped it all away, because he couldn’t understand, I had to do this, for his future… but with my research…. I could bring him back!” The barrel of the gun was pointed right at Kisaragi’s chest, gesturing to the young man’s heart. “That’s why I need it! I need to fix everything, and I can’t, without what was stolen from me!”

“You must know, even with a… a miracle, he wouldn’t really have been Tobio, even if you managed to save his body. With such damage, would he even know who he was, or who you were? Would he really have been your child?”

“SHUT UP!” The man looked more and more manic by the second, his eyes darting around the room. “You sound just like that insufferable idiot Redosu, you know that?! Who cares if he wasn’t the original Tobio, I would have made him better! He wouldn’t leave me again! Meanwhile, Redosu stabbed me in the back, and stole it all from me! He’s the one that killed them, not ME!”

Kisaragi nodded. “Of course. No doubt he asked you to make sure the project succeeded, and you did, even if it meant making sure those who came along to stop it were dealt with?” 

“Yes, yes! Oh, Redosu said they were there to help, but I knew better. So I made them useful! First guinea pigs for the human trial! Pity for them that it didn’t counteract succinylcholine quickly enough, but was very, very useful for seeing how far we’d come. So close too, and when I have my research again, I’ll bring them all back, and my hands will be clean! But then Redosu, the snake, he sabotaged it all!”

Kei nodded, trying to keep the man talking, hoping against hope that Pinoko had her cellphone in her room, and could reach emergency services. “So you did what you needed to do. You set up a bomb at the board meeting with that general, where Redosu was going to make you take the fall and kill the project.”

The gun bounced wildly around, and it took all of Kisaragi’s effort not to flinch when it would aim back and forth at him. “Yes, YES. Redosu wanted all the glory, but he was weak! Said I was a danger to society, and the treatment wouldn’t work right. I only meant to distract them, show them the true value of such research, but it didn’t work! Tobio, oh, Tobio… why didn’t it work?” The man was openly sobbing now, lost in his madness. If Kei could just step a little closer, he could grab the weapon, and it would be over…

“Kei? Who’s there? We don’t have too much time, Doctor Tahomaru doesn’t like to be kept waiting, and they’re expecting us by noon-” Black Jack stepped through the clinic door, looking in confusion between Kisaragi and Tenma. “What the hell?”

Before Kei could scream, before Black Jack could move, Tenma swung the gun to the man and shot the surgeon straight in the chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pleaaaaaaaaaaaase don't kill me.
> 
> Next chapter will be up soon.
> 
> Almost done.
> 
> (Please comment? Please Kudos?)


	12. The ship has sailed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how the story ends.

As soon as Black Jack stumbled back, blood spraying forward onto the hardwood floors as he slid down the wall, Kei launched himself at Tenma, one hand to the gun and the other to the inner elbow in a fist. The gun fired again, up into the air, before skittering across the floor, coming to rest at the sole of an unmoving slipper. Someone screamed, but it was strained and muted, under the roar of survival between the two struggling men.

The young ship’s doctor tried his best to stave off his panic about what had just happened, and focus on keeping Tenma away from the prone figure of the gun. The older man struck with the force of man who’d been a fighter in the prime of his life, but Kisaragi fought like a sailor in return. Glasses went skittering off to a corner when the madman got in a punch to the head, but Kei returned with a knee to the groin and a twist of the other arm that made a nasty popping sound.

Tenma swung again at the smaller man, but missed as Kei went low for the knees, sweeping him off balance into the fireplace. That proved to be a mistake, as the intruding researcher grabbed the poker, slamming it inches from Kisaragi’s head as he scrambled to roll left. 

Swinging the poker again, Tenma grunted in surprise when the heavy iron stuck into the pine floor. The ship’s doctor used the opening to bring interwoven fists slamming down on the back of the man’s head, as his knee smashed up into that large nose.  _ If we both survive this, I’m never complaining about bare wooden floors again. _

Still, the older man seemed to shake off every hit, every punch, every kick after a moment. Kei was faster, sure, but the few fights he’d been in had lasted only for as long as he needed to get away, or the shock the other fighter into sense. He couldn’t really do either one here. Tenma fought like the madman he was, uncaring for bruises or fatigue. This fight was only ending with Tenma subdued or…

Or everyone in this house was dead.

He chanced a look at the prone form of Black Jack, his patient, his… and bit back the scream for him to get up, to move, to stay alive. Anything to drown out Kiriko’s voice: _ One last thing; as fantastic as this is, it doesn’t prevent death, if it’s quick enough. Tenma made that abundantly clear.  _ No, he couldn’t think about that; he couldn’t think all of this was for nothing, that he’d lost everything all over again...

The poker whizzed by Kei’s head again, and he fell over the back of the sofa, saved only by a dislodged pillow from smacking his head against the floor. He scrambled up, circling back to the fireplace, grabbing the tongs, swinging them up just in time to block the poker’s downward thrust.

The meeting of metal left Kisaragi’s arms shaking, but he still managed to parry off two more swings from Tenma before both fireplace irons smashed into a table, and Kei got in another good, solid punch in the other man’s sternum. Tenma threw him down hard against the floor, but he let go of the poker, at least, as he lunged down against the prone young doctor, hands slamming against his throat, trying to choke him. 

Kei scratched the bearded man’s face, drawing blood, fighting to breathe. He kicked up, slamming his legs into Tenma’s chest, flipping him over and breaking the choke hold. He rolled again, trying to remember where the gun was. 

A hand gripped his ankle, and Kei kicked wildly, smashing his heel into the madman’s face.  _ Keep away, keep away, _ he chanted in his head, using the moment of the other man’s scream to skitter out of reach. 

Tenma shook off the bleeding nose, and lunged again at the younger man, obviously frustrated that he just wouldn’t stay still. “Come back here, traitor!”

Refusing to answer, Kei swept low again, but Tenma jumped back, leaving the younger man off balance. Gnarled hands slammed forward, grasping tightly around Kisaragi’s neck, the smack of the floor against Kei's back driving the air from his lungs.

No matter how he squirmed and kicked, Kei couldn’t break the madman’s grip, and the lack of oxygen made it harder and harder to think or fight back. Spots swarmed his vision, and Kei knew he was done for.

_ Black Jack, Kuro’o, I’m s- _

Something hard slammed into Tenma’s head, sending him flying.

Kei gasped as soon his airway was released, and coughed. His vision swam, taking a moment to focus on…

“B-Black Jack?!?”

The unlicensed surgeon, his shirt still stained with his cooling blood, pressed a knee into Tenma’s back as he grabbed the intruder’s hands and pulled them back. “Pinoko, grab the rope!”

At once, the redhead skittered into view, as if on cue, twine in hand. “Gosht it, Doctor!”

Kei blinked owlishly at the slightly blurry scene before him. “B-but he shot you, point blank, in the…”

“In the chest, yes.” Black Jack grunted slightly as Tenma tried to struggle against him, but the two-toned doctor was stronger and heavier than he was. With the ease of someone who’d done this more than once, the unlicensed surgeon quickly had the would-be murderer hogtied, hands to feet, unable to move. 

Finished with intruder, Black Jack walked back over to the still prone Kei, and proffered the smaller man a hand up. Now Kei could see the full extent of the damage; blood had soaked the front of the white dress shirt through, and more of it was smeared from the man’s nose and mouth. Beneath the shirt…

The skin was pristine. “Never thought I would be so happy you’ve got this stupid disease to begin with.” Kei practically cried, and pressed himself against that chest, completely ignoring the mess of the still drying blood, to take comfort of the heart beating there. 

“Whoa, hey… it seems I got lucky.” Black Jack held the smaller man for a moment, before turning his attention back to the intruder. “Luck that our would-be killer seems to have used on himself, too.”

“Hm?” Kei peered over to the other man, then realized he was probably missing what Black Jack was referring to, since he was still missing his glasses. Pinoko, deciding not to ruin the moment for once, tugged on Kisaragi’s pant leg, holding up the missing spectacles. “Thank you, Pinoko,” he slipped the frames back into place, “I- oh!”

Tenma was still struggling against his makeshift restraints, spitting and hissing like a wild dog. His face bore the marks of his fight with Kisaragi, but those scratches and bruises looked faded and old, not fresh as they should be. “So he dosed himself with the treatment. I guess by its slow progression, it’s an earlier version… good lords.”

“Of course I did! Why create immortality, without trying the nectar for yourself?! The sacrifices were worth the risk!”

Kei frowned, words on the tip of his tongue. His attention was momentarily distracted by a ‘plink’ of something metal dropping to the floor. He looked down, curious to discover what had made the noise.

Black Jack scoffed at Tenma. “‘Sacrifices’? I don’t think being asleep for three fourths of your life is worth-”

The research ‘doctor’ cackled from the floor. “Ha! Sleep! So you agree with Redosu, then, the fool! It was his insistence that being unable to sleep would damage the mind, and took out the insomnia component, driving the project off the rails. But I knew better! I’m proof! Where is that old goat?! I know he’s here, trying to keep me from my RESEARCH-!”

Pinoko, sick of the screeching man’s voice, promptly shoved an old sock in Tenma’s mouth. “Two loud,” she declared, and kicked the ball of fabric further in. He spit it out, coughing, but didn’t yell again.

Both doctors blanched at the realization of what Tenma had done to himself. “To go that long, without sleep… well, that would explain a lot of his actions.” Kei shuddered as he stood back up, mentally tried to imagine the strain of months of sleeplessness would put on the body and mind. 

Noticing the small object in the younger doctor's hand, Black Jack peered at it, trying to make out what had caught the man's attention. “What’s that?”

A soft smirk played on Kei’s lips as he held it up to catch the light. It was a small bit of metal, slightly deformed from its journey, but still identifiable. “Your bullet. What am I going to do with you?”

Black Jack rolled his eyes, but the smile was infectious, at least until he noticed the time. “Well, what we need to do is to get to Tahomaru’s hospital, but we can’t leave Tenma like this. As loathe as I am to admit it, we should probably call the police, and try to convince them of what he’s done-”

Whatever else the unlicensed surgeon was going to say was cut off by the wail of sirens. From her perch between the two doctors legs, Pinoko grinned. “Pinoko cwalled them when I fwirst got away, and recowded everyfing that nashty doctor when they were lishtening! Did I do good?” 

Laughing, Black Jack patted her head. “Nicely done, assistant.”

* * *

What followed was a mass of confusion. Emergency services had arrived, expecting one victim, or possibly three, given to the hysteria they’d heard over the child’s call. However, the rushing personnel were instead greeted by their shooting ‘victim’ at the door, looking surprisingly intact. Still, given the amount of blood on both men, they didn’t argue when the bespeckled doctor flashed his credentials and insisted they be taken to Dororo Hospital immediately. The child, ignored up until that moment, had grumbled loudly, until a handsome young police officer had offered to drive her personally, behind the ambulance. The poor patrolman had no idea what he’d agreed to, but Pinoko was mollified, giggling as he put on the sirens for her.

Doctor Taromaru, hair strands escaping his slicked back coiffure, greeted the scene that arrived incredulously. “What the hell, Black Jack? You always have to make everything so damned dramatic.” He beckoned them to waiting OR, looking at Kisaragi up and down. “Is this the pati-”

“No, you idiot; I am!” The genius surgeon quickly stripped, only pausing in switching to a gown when Kei grabbed a sponge to sop up the bloody mess; it was all that had remained from the bullet wound from earlier. To Tahomaru’s surprise, the skin underneath was completely unblemished. 

“I’m Doctor Kisaragi; I’m assisting Dr. Black Jack and apologize for his rudeness. We’ve had quite the morning.” Kei bowed professionally to the other doctor, while elbowing his patient to stop grumbling under his breath.

Tahomaru nodded, well aware of the renegade doctor’s bad temperament. “Yes, yes. We spoke on the phone. Your notes were invaluable at pinpointing the source of the protein aggregate. We’ve gotten everything you need set up here.”

Plasma replacement was a tricky business, particularly when having to flush the remaining red blood cells clean in the process. Dr. Kisaragi, Dr. Tahomaru and Black Jack each triple checked the equipment to make sure each step was airtight, and done in the correct order. The dialysis lines were placed; one in the arm, the other in femoral artery, to keep the disease from replicating faster than they could remove it. 

The first treatment took 3 hours, with Kisaragi constantly checking the needles and lines to make sure the disease’s tendency to eat through foreign objects didn’t undo their careful work. Halfway through the second treatment, Black Jack felt the onset symptoms of the sleep cycle creep upon him. His last view was Kei, smiling softly at him, gripping his hand.

* * *

“Ngh!” Black Jack woke with a start, momentarily disoriented by the dark hospital room and the weight in his hand. _How long have I been out? Another three days? _

He looked to the warm sensation in his hand. A smaller hand, grasped tightly in his own. 

Kei had kept his grip on his patient, even as he’d fallen asleep in a visitor’s chair beside Black Jack’s hospital bed. Pinoko was splayed out in his lap, snoring softly.

“Don’t wake the brats just yet. He was awake for far too long yesterday.” A shadow stepped into the growing soft light of dawn and the hospital monitors, revealing silver hair and an arm in a sling. “Let him have a few more minutes.”

“Kiriko?” The two-toned face frowned in confusion. What was the other dark doctor doing there?

“Relax. You’ve only been asleep thirteen hours. Looks like your little miracle gambit worked.” The euthanasia specialist winced, as his shrug jostled his shoulder. In the end, Kisaragi had restitched the bullet wound for him when Kiriko had shown up at the hospital the last night, pointing out there'd been obvious severed nerves. The rookie did a decent job, but the nerve damage was deep, and would take a while to heal. “And if you can’t tell, I’m in no shape to offer you my usual services, even if you wanted them. Tenma got to me before he went after you.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood to lie right now.” Black Jack smirked, sitting up slightly. “Hopefully, he’s worn out his welcome with the US military, and doesn’t get sprung. The last thing we need is that madman coming back.”

“Oh, that’s right… you didn’t hear.” Black Jack blinked, and it was Kiriko's turn to smirk. “Turns out all that talk of working with the US military was a delusion of his, brought on by his lack of sleep and the disease, or treatment, as far as the jail doctors can tell. They’d long given up interest in his project, even before the explosion. What Tenma hadn’t realized was that Dr. Redosu’s meeting, the one he planted the bomb at? It was for a completely different project. Tenma’s not going anywhere for a long time, with his confession already on tape, thanks to your littlest pipsqueak.”

Taking a moment to process what Kiriko said, the unlicensed surgeon tried to put all the pieces in place, trying to match it up with the information Kisaragi had told him yesterday. “Then… why did Redosu bother to subject me to the treatment in the first place?”

“Because, I suspect,” Kei sat up with a yawn, rubbing his eyes under his skewed glasses, “Redosu wanted you to figure out a cure for Tenma. He knew the toll the treatment was having on the man, but couldn’t figure out how to stop it without killing him, or tipping him off to what he was doing. He had to have known his partner had caused the deaths of their fellow researchers, and worried he was next.” Kei yawned again, then glared at Kiriko. “Why in god’s name are you still here?” 

“Someone had to keep a lookout while you got your beauty rest, princess.” That comment got a glare from both doctors, and the white haired man threw up his hands. “Besides, I had to make sure Black Jack here got my bill.” He pulled out a white envelope and threw it on the bed. “Let me know if anything else comes up. You know where to find me.” With that, he turned on his heel and slid out of the private room.

Kei rolled his eyes at the dramatic exit of the White Doctor of Death, but expected nothing less of the man at this point. After a moment, a confused noise from his (now former) patient made him turn his head. “What is it?”

Black Jack shook his head. “I think he must have hit his head in his scuffle with Tenma.”

“Why?”

Black Jack flipped the paper around. “He gave me a discount.” 

Either his exhaustion had frayed his nerves or the relief of this whole ordeal had, but Kei couldn’t hold back his laughter at this point, inadvertently rousing the small child in his lap. “You’re right, that doesn’t sound like him at all.”

“Get this, he marked it as ‘newlywed discount’ - oh,” Two sets of cheeks blushed at the realization of _that_ connotation, “he put a note along with it: ‘You two deserve each other, and I don’t mean it as a compliment.’ Good grief." Black Jack scanned the various line items, debating whether he'd debate them or not.

"Huh, he also crossed something out down here on the bottom.” Russet eyes squinted to make out the kanji underneath.  “What’s this about a file already paid for?”

Kei shrugged. “I’ll tell you later.”

* * *

“You’re sure about this.” 

Kei laughed as he grabbed his duffel and briefcase out of the trunk of Black Jack’s black sedan. “Just as sure as I was the last thousand times you asked. Yes, I’m sure. We talked about this.”

The dark doctor grumbled, but conceded the point. They’d done a lot of talking the last three weeks, since he’d been released from the hospital into Dr. Kisaragi’s care. The plasma replacement and dialysis had been a success; he returned to a normal sleeping schedule, no longer missing three days out of four while in dreamland. His appetite had taken longer to return to normal, and much to his chagrin (and Pinoko’s amusement), he’d been forced to purchase a few  _ slightly _ larger suits, at least for the time being. Kei hadn’t seemed to mind. “But really, I don’t see why you can’t just stay with us.”

Kei rolled his eyes, but smiled softly all the same. “Because we’ve both got our own roles to play. I like being a ship’s doctor.” He stumbled a bit as Pinoko latched onto his grey pant leg, wailing. He bent down, prying her off to hug her properly, soothing her sobs with whispered promises. “I’m not going to be gone forever; six weeks isn’t that long. With this new schedule they’ve given me, I’ll be in Japan almost six months out of the year. Luckily, I have a wonderful assistant to help me look after you for the other six.”

The tiny redhead nodded. “Down’t wowwy! I’ll keepsh the Doctor in linesh, weady for da hushband’s return!”

Black Jack dropped his head into his hand. “Not that nonsense again, Pinoko. Knock it off and go wait in the car.” Ushering her back to the front seat, he turned back to Kei. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can say that would make you stay?” He kissed him gently, not caring who saw.

With a kiss like that, warm and comforting, Kei was tempted to cave in, hold the larger man tight and never let go. Still, after a moment longer than he should, the ship's doctor bowed his head and looked away. “I’ll be back before you know it, and then I’ll have plenty of time to wear out my welcome. With no mysterious illness to take up our time, no doubt you’re bound to get bored of being domestic-”

Black Jack kissed him silent, ignoring the wolf whistle of a few of the sailors loitering around them. “Not with you. Never with you.” Reluctantly, he let the ship’s doctor slip out of his grasp. “Keep me updated, please.”

Kei grinned as he stepped onto the gangplank. “Of course.” Silently, he mouthed the words neither could say out loud.  _ Love you.  _

_ Love you, too. _

Nothing could keep the smile off Doctor Kisaragi’s face, even as he checked in with the captain. “Looks like you did a lot with your time off, Kisaragi.”

“You could say that.”

“This little lady with you?” The captain pointed down, and only then did Kei notice that Pinoko had, somehow, snuck out of the car and up the gangplank, smiling a devilish little smile as she peeked from behind the duffel. Kei could already hear Black Jack bellowing for her. For a moment, Kei was reminded of that fateful meeting, just over two years ago, in Yokohama Park. 

At the time, it was a wistful, painful moment of feelings buried and regrets of things that could have been. Now…

Now it was the start of a family he didn’t know he needed. 

The ship’s doctor smiled, rolled his eyes and laughed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... we're done! I promised myself I'd get this done before the new year, and by the skin of the teeth, I have! 
> 
> Thank you, everyone, who was kind enough to cheer me on. I worried so much, with this rare ship in a rare fandom, that no one would read it. Thank you for proving me wrong, and urging me to continue.
> 
> Originally, this fic was going to be a bit more morose, and its ending a lot more ambiguous, but then Kei had to be an adorable cinnamon roll and I just couldn't break his heart more than it already had. Kiriko... Kiriko got off easy. 
> 
> Black Jack didn't have a lot to do in his own fic. OOPS. 
> 
> Anyways, please comment and let me know how I did! Comments, good and critical, help me be a better writer.


End file.
